Copyright,  1911,  bj  Houston  Mifflin  Company 


ROBINETTA 


By  KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 


And  Mary  Findlater,  Jane  Findlater, 
Allan  McAulay 


Fiontlsoltct  iu  Colors 
By  A.  G.   LEARNED 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

114-120  East  Twenty-third  Street      -       -       New  York 

PUBLISHED  BY  ARRANGEMENT    WITH  HOUGHTON  MIFFUN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1910  AND   ipn,    BY   KATE    DOUGLAS    RIGGS 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  February  iqn 


Ifl 

CONTENTS 


I.   THE  PLUM  TREE         .....      1 
II.  THE  MANOR  HOUSE        ....          7 

III.  YOUNG  MRS.  LORING  .....    19 

IV.  A  CHILLY  RECEPTION      ....        29 
V.   AT  WITTISHAM    ......    39 

VI.  MARK  LAVENDAR     .....        54 

VII.  A  CROSS-EXAMINATION       .        .        .        .69 

VIII.  SUNDAY  AT  STOKE  REVEL       ...        87 

IX.  POINTS  OF  VIEW         .....    99 

X.  A  NEW  KINSMAN    .....      113 

XI.  THE  SANDS  AT  WESTON     .        .        .        .127 

XII.   LOVE  IN  THE  MUD          ....      151 

XIII.  CARNABY  TO  THE  RESCUE          .  .  170 

XIV.  THE  EMPTY  SHRINE        ....      181 
XV.  "  Now  LUBIN  is  AWAY  "  ...  194 

XVI.   Two  LETTERS  ......      210 

XVII.  MRS.  DE  TRACY  CROSSES  THE  FERRY        .  217 
XVIII.   THE  STOKE  REVEL  JEWELS        .        .        .234 


912980 


KOBINETTA 
I 

THE    PLUM    TREE 

.T  Wittisham  several  of  the  little  houses 
had  crept  down  very  close  to  the  river.  Mrs. 
Prettyman's  cottage  was  just  like  a  hive 
made  for  the  habitation  of  some  gigantic 
bee ;  its  pointed  roof  covered  with  deep, 
close-cut  thatch  the  colour  of  a  donkey's  hide. 
There  were  small  windows  under  the  over 
hanging  eaves,  a  pathway  of  irregular  flat 
stones  ran  up  to  the  doorway,  and  a  bit  of 
low  wall  divided  the  tiny  garden  from  the 
river.  The  Plum  Tree  grew  just  beside 
the  wall,  so  near  indeed  that  it  could  look 
at  itself  on  spring  days  when  the  water 
was  like  a  mirror.  In  autumn  the  branches 
on  that  side  of  the  tree  were  the  first  to  be 
shaken,  lest  any  of  the  fruit  should  fall  down 


2  EOBINETTA 

and  be  lost.  Sometimes  a  village  child  tread 
ing  cautiously  on  bare  toes  amongst  the 
stones  along  the  narrow  margin,  would 
pounce  upon  a  plum  with  a  squeal  of  joy, 
for  although  the  village  was  surrounded  with 
orchards,  the  fruit  of  Mrs.  Pretty  man's  tree 
had  a  flavour  all  its  own. 

The  tree  had  been  given  to  her  by  a 
nephew  who  was  a  gardener  in  a  great  fruit 
orchard  in  the  North,  and  her  husband  had 
planted  and  tended  it  for  years.  It  began  life 
as  a  slender  thing  with  two  or  three  rods  of 
branches,  that  looked  as  if  the  first  wind  of 
winter  would  blow  it  away,  but  before  the 
storms  came,  it  had  begun  to  trust  itself  to 
the  new  earth,  and  to  root  itself  with  force 
and  determination.  There  were  good  soil 
and  water  near  it,  and  plenty  of  sunshine, 
and,  as  is  the  way  of  Nature,  it  set  itself  to 
do  its  own  business  at  all  seasons,  unlike  the 
distracted  heart  of  man.  The  traffic  of  the 
river  came  and  went;  around  the  headland 
the  big  ships  were  steering  in,  or  going  out 


THE   PLUM   TREE  3 

p* 

to  sea;  and  in  the  village  the  human  life 
went  on  while  the  Plum  Tree  grew  high 
enough  to  look  over  the  wall.  Its  stem  by 
that  time  had  a  firm  footing;  next  it  took  a 
charming  bend  to  the  side,  and  then  again 
threw  out  new  branches  in  that  direction.  It 
turned  itself  from  the  prevailing  wind,  throw 
ing  a  new  grace  into  its  attitude,  and  went 
on  growing ;  returning  in  blossom  and  leaves 
and  fruit  an  hundredfold  for  all  that  it  re 
ceived  from  the  earth  and  the  sun. 

In  spring  it  was  enchanting ;  at  first,  be 
fore  the  blossoms  came  out,  with  small  bright 
leaves,  and  buds  like  pearls,  heaped  upon 
the  branches;  then,  later,  when  the  whole 
tree  was  white,  imaged  like  a  bride,  in  the 
looking-glass  of  the  river.  It  only  wanted 
a  nightingale  to  sing  in  it  by  moonlight. 
There  were  no  nightingales  there,  but  the 
thrushes  sang  in  the  dawning,  and  the  little 
birds  whose  voices  were  sweet  and  thin  chir 
ruped  about  it  in  crowds,  while  the  larks, 
trilling  out  the  ardour  of  mating  time,  some- 


4  EOBINETTA 

times  rose  from  their  nests  in  the  grass  and 
soared  over  its  topmost  branches  on  their 
skyward  flight. 

Spring,  therefore,  was  its  merriest  time, 
for  then  every  passer-by  would  cry,  "  What 
a  beautiful  tree ! "  or  "  Did  ye  ever  see  the 
likes  of  it?" 

There  were  a  few  days  of  inevitable  sad 
ness  a  little  later  when  its  million  petals  fell 
and  made  a  delicate  carpet  of  snow  on  the 
ground.  There  they  lay  in  a  kind  of  fairy 
ring,  as  if  there  had  been  a  shower  of 
mother-of-pearl  in  the  April  night;  and  no 
human  creature  would  have  dared  set  a  van 
dal  foot  on  that  magic  circle,  and  mar  the  per 
fection  of  its  beauty.  All  the  same  the  Plum 
Tree  had  lost  its  petals,  and  that  was  hard 
to  bear  at  first.  But  though  its  Wittisham 
neighbours  often  said  to  summer  trippers,  "  I 
wish  you  could  have  seen  it  in  blossom  !  "  the 
Plum  Tree  did  not  repine,  because  of  the 
secrets  —  the  thousand,  thousand  secrets  — 
it  held  under  its  leaves.  "  The  blossoms  were 


THE   PLUM   TREE  5 

but  a  promise,"  it  thought,  "  and  soon  every 
body  will  see  the  meaning  of  them." 

Then  the  tiny  green  globes  began  to  ap 
pear  on  every  branch  and  twig ;  crowding, 
crowding,  crowding  till  it  seemed  as  if  there 
could  never  be  room  for  so  many  to  grow ; 
but  the  weaker  ones  fell  from  the  boughs  or 
were  blown  away  when  the  wind  was  fierce, 
so  the  Plum  Tree  felt  no  anxiety,  knowing 
that  it  was  built  for  a  large  family !  The  lit 
tle  green  globes  grew  and  grew,  and  drank 
in  sweet  mother-juices,  and  swelled,  and 
when  the  summer  sun  touched  their  cheeks 
all  day  they  flushed  and  reddened,  till  when 
August  came  the  tree  was  laden  with  pur 
pling  fruit;  fruit  so  tempting  that  its  rosy 
beauty  had  sometimes  to  be  hidden  under 
a  veil  of  grey  fishing  net,  lest  the  myriad 
bird-friends  it  had  made  during  the  sum 
mer  should  love  it  too  much  for  its  own 
good. 

So  the  Plum  Tree  grew  and  flourished, 
taking  its  part  in  the  pageant  of  the  seasons, 


6  ROBINETTA 

unaware  that  its  existence  was  to  be  inter 
woven  with  that  of  men ;  or  that  creatures 
of  another  order  of  being  were  to  owe  some 
changes  in  their  fortunes  to  its  silent  obedi 
ence  to  the  motive  of  life. 


T, 


II 

THE    MANOR    HOUSE 


HE  long,  low  drawing  room  of  the  Manor 
at  Stoke  Revel  was  the  warmest  and  most 
genial  room  in  the  old  Georgian  house.  It 
was  four-windowed  and  faced  south,  and 
even  on  this  morning  of  a  chilly  and  back 
ward  spring,  the  tentative  sunshine  of  April 
had  contrived  to  put  out  the  fire  in  the  steel 
grate.  One  of  the  windows  opened  wide  to 
the  garden,  and  let  in  a  scent  which  was  less 
of  flowers  than  of  the  promise  of  flowers —  a 
scent  of  earth  and  green  leaves,  of  the  leaf 
less  daphne  still  a-bloom  in  the  shrubbery, 
of  hyacinths  and  daffodils  and  tulips  and 
primroses  still  sheathed  in  their  buds  and 
awaiting  a  warmer  air. 

But  this  promise  of  spring  borne  into  the 
room  by  the  wandering  breeze  from  the  river, 
was  nipped,  as  it  were,  by  the  frigid  spirit  of 


8  ROBINETTA 

age  and  formalism  in  its  living  occupants- 
Mrs.  de  Tracy,  a  lady  of  seventy-five,  sat  at  her 
writing-table.  Her  companion,  Miss  Smear- 
don,  a  person  of  indeterminate  age,  nursed 
the  lap-dog  Rupert  during  such  time  as  her 
employer  was  too  deeply  engaged  to  fulfil 
that  agreeable  duty.  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  as  she 
wrote,  was  surrounded  by  countless  photo 
graphs  of  her  family  and  her  wide  connection, 
most  prominent  among  them  two  —  that  of 
her  husband,  Admiral  de  Tracy,  who  had  died 
many  years  ago,  and  that  of  her  grandson, 
his  successor,  whose  guardian  she  was,  and 
whose  minority  she  directed.  Her  eldest  son, 
the  father  of  this  boy,  who  had  died  on  his 
ship  off  the  coast  of  Africa ;  his  wife,  dead 
too  these  many  years ;  her  other  sons  as 
well  (she  had  borne  four) ;  their  wives  and 
children  —  grown  men,  fashionable  women, 
beautiful  children,  fat  babies :  the  likenesses 
of  them  all  were  around  her,  standing  amid 
china  and  flowers  and  bric-a-brac  on  the 
crowded  tables  and  what-nots  of  the  not  in- 


THE  MANOR  HOUSE  9 

harmonious  and  yet  shabby  Victorian  room. 
Mrs.  de  Tracy,  it  might  at  a  glance  be  seen, 
was  no  innovator,  either  in  furniture,  in 
dress,  or  probably  in  ideas.  As  she  was  dressed 
now,  in  the  severely  simple  black  of  a  widow, 
so  she  had  been  dressed  when  she  first 
mourned  Admiral  de  Tracy.  The  muslin  ends 
of  her  widow's  cap  fell  upon  her  shoulders, 
and  its  border  rested  on  the  hard  lines  of 
iron-grey  hair  which  framed  a  face  small, 
pale,  aquiline  in  character  and  decidedly 
austere  in  expression. 

She  took  one  from  a  docketed  pile  of  let 
ters  and  held  it  up  under  her  glasses,  the 
sun  suddenly  striking  a  dazzle  of  blue  and 
green  from  the  diamond  rings  on  her  small, 
withered  hands.  Then  she  read  it  aloud  to  her 
companion  in  an  even  and  chilly  voice.  She 
had  read  it  before,  in  the  same  way,  at  the 
same  hour,  several  times.  The  letter,  couched 
in  an  epistolary  style  largely  dependent  upon 
underlining,  appeared  to  contain,  neverthe 
less,  some  matter  of  moment.  It  was  dated 


10  ROBINETTA 

from  Eaton  Square,  in  London,  some  weeks 
before,  and  signed  Maria  Spalding.  ("  Her 
mother  was  a  Gallup,"  Mrs.  de  Tracy  would 
say,  if  any  one  asked  who  Maria  Spalding 
was;  and  this  was  considered  sufficient,  for 
Mrs.  de  Tracy's  maiden  name  had  been 
Gallup,  —  not  euphonious  but  nevertheless 
aristocratic.) 

MY  DEAR  AUGUSTA  (Maria  Spalding 
wrote) :  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  help  me 
out  of  a  difficulty.  There  is  no  use  beating 
about  the  bush.  You  know  that  Cynthia's 
daughter  Robinetta  (Loring  is  her  married 
name)  has  been  with  me  for  a  month.  Amer 
ican  or  no  American,  I  meant  to  have  had 
her  for  a  part  of  the  season,  and  to  present 
her,  if  possible  (so  good  for  these  Americans 
to  learn  what  royalty  is  and  to  breathe  the 
atmosphere  which  doth  hedge  a  King  as 
Shakespeare  says,  and  which  they  can  never 
have,  of  course,  in  a  country  like  theirs).  I 
know  you  can't  approve,  dear  Augusta,  and 


THE  MANOR  HOUSE  11 

you  will  blame  me  for  sentimentality  —  but 
I  never  can  forget  what  a  sweet  creature 
Cynthia  was  before  she  ran  away  with  that 
odious  American  —  and  my  greatest  friend 
in  girlhood,  too,  you  must  remember.  So 
Robinette,as  she  is  generally  called,  has  come 
to  my  house  as  a  home,  but  a  most  unlucky 
thing  has  happened.  I  have  had  influenza  so 
badly  that  it  has  affected  my  heart  (an  old 
trouble),  I  am  ordered  to  Nauheim,  and  Rob- 
inette  is  stranded,  poor  dear.  She  has  few 
friends  in  London  and  certainly  none  who 
can  put  her  up.  Tho'  she  is  a  widow,  she  is 
only  twenty-two  (just  imagine!),  very  pretty, 
and  really,  tho'  you  won't  believe  it,  quite 
nice.  I  am  desperate,  and  just  wondering  if 
you  would  let  by-gones  be  by-gones,  and 
receive  her  at  Stoke  Revel.  She  has  set  her 
heart  upon  seeing  the  place,  and  some  picture 
she  was  called  after  (I  can't  remember  it,  so 
it  can't  be  one  of  the  famous  Stoke  Revel 
group  —  a  copy,  I  fancy),  and  on  paying  a 
visit  to  Lizzie  Prettyman,  her  mother's  old 


12  ROBINETTA 

nurse  at  Wittisham  over  the  river.  She  pro 
mised  her  mother  she  would  do  this  —  and 
such  a  promise  is  sacred,  don't  you  think? 
It's  such  an  old  story  now,  Cynthia's  Ameri 
can  marriage,  and  no  fault  of  Robinette's, 
poor  dear  child.  Her  wish  is  almost  a  pious 
one,  don't  you  agree,  to  pay  respect  to  her 
mother's  memory  and  the  family,  and  is  much 
to  be  encouraged  in  these  days  of  radicalism, 
when  every  natural  tie  is  loosened  and  people 
pay  no  more  respect  to  their  parents  than 
if  they  had  n't  any,  but  had  made  themselves 
and  brought  themselves  up  from  the  begin 
ning.  So  don't  you  think  it 's  a  good  thing 
to  encourage  the  right  kind  of  feeling  in 
K-obinette,  especially  as  she  is  an  American, 
you  know.  .  .  . 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  paused,  and  replaced  the 
letter  in  the  package  from  which  she  had 
withdrawn  it. 

66  Maria  Spalding's  point  of  view,"  she 
observed,  "  has,  I  confess,  helped  me  to  over- 


THE   MANOR   HOUSE  13 

come  the  extreme  reluctance  I  felt  to  receive 
the  child  of  that  American  here.  Cynthia 
de  Tracy's  elopement  nearly  broke  my  dear 
husband's  heart.  She  was  the  apple  of  his  eye 
before  our  marriage ;  so  much  younger  than 
himself  that  she  was  like  his  child  rather  than 
his  sister." 

"  What  a  shock  it  must  have  been !  "  mur 
mured  the  companion.  "  What  ingratitude! 
Can  you  really  receive  her  child  ?  Of  course 
you  know  best,  Mrs.  de  Tracy ;  but  it  seems 
a  risk." 

"  Hardly  a  risk,"  rejoined  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
with  dignity.  "  But  it  is  a  trial  to  me,  and 
an  effort  that  I  scarcely  feel  called  upon  to 
make." 

Miss  Smeardon  was  so  well  versed  in  her 
duties  that  she  knew  she  always  had  to  urge 
her  employer  to  do  exactly  what  she  most 
wanted  to  do,  and  the  poor  creature  had  de 
veloped  a  really  wonderful  ingenuity  in  divin 
ing  what  these  wishes  were.  Just  now,  how 
ever,  she  was,  to  use  a  sporting  phrase,  "  at 


14  KOBINETTA 

fault "  for  a  minute.  She  could  not  exactly 
tell  whether  Mrs.  de  Tracy  wanted  to  be 
urged  to  ask  her  niece  to  Stoke  Revel,  or 
whether  she  wanted  to  be  supplied  with  a 
really  plausible  excuse  for  not  doing  so. 
Those  of  you  who  have  seen  a  hound  at  fault 
can  imagine  the  companion  at  this  moment : 
irresolute,  tense,  desperately  anxious  to  find 
and  follow  up  the  right  scent.  Compromise, 
that  useful  refuge,  came  to  her  aid. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  know,"  she  faltered. 
Then  Mrs.  de  Tracy  gave  her  the  lead. 

"  Maria  Spalding  is  right  when  she  says 
that  my  husband's  niece  contemplates  a  duty 
in  visiting  Stoke  Revel,"  she  announced. 
"  The  young  woman  is  the  lawful  daughter 
of  Cynthia  de  Tracy  that  was :  our  solicitors 
could  never  discover  anything  dubious  in 
the  marriage,  though  we  long  suspected  it. 
Therefore,  though  I  never  could  have  invited 
her  here,  I  admit  that  the  Admiral's  niece 
has  a  right  to  come,  in  a  way." 

"  Though  her  maiden  name  was  Bean ! " 


THE  MANOR  HOUSE  15 

ejaculated  the  companion,  almost  under  her 
breath.  "There  are  Pease  in  the  North,  as 
everyone  knows;  perhaps  there  are  Beans 
somewhere." 

"  There  have  never  been  Beans,"  said  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  solemnly  and  totally  unconscious 
of  a  pun.  "  Look  for  yourself !  " 

Miss  Smeardon  did  not  need  to  rise  from 
her  seat  and  fetch  Burke :  it  lay  always  close 
at  hand.  She  merely  lifted  it  on  to  her  knee 
and  ran  her  finger  down  the  names  beginning 
with  B-e-a. 

"Beaton,  Beare,  Beatty,  Beale — "  she 
read  out,  and  she  shook  her  head  in  dismal 
triumph;  "but  never  a  Bean  !  No!  we  Eng 
lish  have  no  such  dreadful  names,  thank 
Heavens ! " 

"  This  is  the  beginning  of  April,"  pursued 
Mrs.  de  Tracy,  referring  to  a  date-card. 
"  Maria  Spalding's  course  at  Nauheim  will 
take  three  weeks.  We  must  allow  her  a  week 
for  going  and  coming.  During  that  time 
Mrs.  David  Loring  can  be  my  guest." 


16  ROBINETTA 

"A  whole  month!  "  cried  the  companion, 
as  though  in  ecstasy  at  her  employer's  gen 
erosity.  "A  whole  month  at  Stoke  Kevel!  " 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  took  no  notice.  "  Write 
in  my  name  to  Maria  Spalding,  please,"  she 
commanded.  "Be  sure  that  there  is  no  mis 
take  about  dates.  Mention  the  departure  and 
arrival  of  trains,  and  say  that  Mrs.  David 
Loring  will  find  a  fly  at  the  station.  That  is 
all,  I  think." 

The  companion  bent  officiously  forward. 
"  You  remember,  of  course,  that  young  Mr. 
Lavendar  comes  down  next  week  upon  busi 
ness?" 

"Well,  what  if  he  does?"  asked  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  shortly. 

"Mrs.  David  Loring  is  a  widow,"  mur 
mured  the  companion  darkly ;  "  a  young 
American  widow ;  and  they  are  said  to  be 
so  dangerous ! " 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  drew  herself  up.  "Do  you 
insinuate  that  the  Admiral's  niece  will  lay 
herself  out  to  attract  Mr.  Lavendar,  a 


THE  MANOR  HOUSE  17 

widow  in  the  house  of  a  widow !  You  go 
rather  too  far,  Miss  Smeardon,  though  you 
are  speaking  of  an  American.  Besides,  al 
lusions  of  this  character  are  extremely  dis 
tasteful  to  me.  I  have  been  told  that  the 
minds  of  unmarried  women  are  always  run 
ning  upon  love  affairs,  but  I  should  hardly 
have  thought  it  of  you." 

"I'm  sure  I  never  imagined  any  about 
myself  !  "  murmured  Miss  Smeardon  with  the 
pitiable  writhe  of  the  trodden-on  worm. 

"  I  should  suppose  not,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  gravely,  and  the  companion  took 
up  her  pen  obediently  to  write  to  Maria 
Spalding. 

"  Shall  I  send  your  love  to  the  Admiral's 
niece  ?  "  she  humbly  enquired,  "or  -  -  or 
something  of  the  kind?"  There  was  irony 
in  the  last  phrase,  but  it  was  quite  uncon 
scious. 

"Not  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  de  Tracy, 
"  some  suitable  message.  Make  no  mistake 
about  the  dates,  remember." 


18  EOB1NETTA 

Thus  a  letter  containing  dates,  and  though 
not  love,  the  substitute  described  by  Miss 
Smeardon  as  "  something  of  the  kind  "  for 
an  unwanted  niece  from  an  unknown  aunt, 
left  Stoke  Revel  by  the  afternoon  post  and 
reached  Robinette  Loring  at  breakfast  next 
morning. 


Y 


Ill 

YOUNG   MRS.    LORING 


OUNG  Mrs.  Loring  thought  she  had 
never  taken  so  long  a  drive  as  that  from  the 
Weston  railway  station  to  Stoke  Revel.  The 
way  stretched  through  narrow  winding  roads, 
always  up  hill,  always  between  high  Devon 
shire  hedges.  The  rain-soaked  lanes  were 
slippery  and  she  was  unpleasantly  conscious 
of  the  size  and  weight  of  the  American  ward 
robe  trunk  that  reared  its  mighty  frame  in 
front  of  her  almost  to  the  blotting-out  of  the 
driver,  who  steadied  it  with  one  hand  as  he 
plied  the  whip  with  the  other.  It  struck  her 
humorously  that  the  trunk  was  larger  than 
most  of  the  cottages  they  were  passing. 

It  was  a  late  spring  that  year  in  England, 
—  Robinette  was  a  new-comer  and  did  not 
know  that  England  runs  to  late  and  wet 
springs,  believing  that  they  make  more 


20  ROBINETTA 

conversation  than  early,  fine  ones,  —  and  the 
trees  were  just  bursting  into  leaf.  The  sun 
had  not  shone  for  three  days  and  the  land 
scape,  for  all  its  beautiful  greenness,  looked 
gloomy  to  an  eye  accustomed  to  a  good  deal 
of  crude  sunshine. 

As  the  horse  mounted  higher  and  higher 
Robinette  glanced  out  of  the  windows  at  the 
dripping  boughs  and  her  face  lost  something 
of  its  sparkle  of  anticipation.  She  had  little 
to  expect  in  the  way  of  a  warm  welcome,  she 
knew  that ;  or  at  least  her  mind  knew  it,  but 
Robinette' s  heart  always  expected  surprises, 
although  she  had  lived  two  and  twenty  sum 
mers  and  was  a  widow  at  that. 

Her  mother  had  been  a  de  Tracy  of  Stoke 
Revel  whose  connection  with  that  ancient 
family  had  ceased  abruptly  when  she  met  an 
American  architect  while  traveling  on  the 
Continent,  married  him  out  of  hand  and 
went  to  his  native  New  England  with  him. 
The  de  Tracys  had  no  opinion  of  America, 
its  government,  its  institutions,  its  customs, 


YOUNG  MRS.   LQRING  21 

or  its  people,  and  when  they  learned  that 
Cynthia  de  Tracy  had  not  only  allied  herself 
with  this  undesirable  nation,  but  had  selected 
a  native  by  the  name  of  Harold  Bean,  they 
regarded  the  incident  of  the  marriage  as 
closed. 

The  union  had  been  a  happy  one,  though 
the  de  Tracys  of  Stoke  Revel  had  always  re 
garded  the  unfortunately  named  architect 
more  as  a  vegetable  than  a  human  being; 
and  the  daughter  of  the  marriage  was  the 
young  Mrs.  Loring  now  driving  in  the  sta 
tion  fly  to  the  home  of  her  mother's  people. 

Her  father  had  died  when  she  was  fifteen 
and  her  mother  followed  three  years  after, 
leaving  her  with  a  respectable  fortune  but  no 
relations ;  the  entire  family  (happily,  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  would  have  said)  having  died  out 
with  Harold.  Robinette  was  unspeakably 
lonely,  even  with  her  hundred  friends,  for 
there  was  enough  English  blood  in  her  to 
make  her  cry  out  inwardly  for  kith  and  kin, 
for  family  ties,  for  all  the  dear  familiar  back- 


22  KOBINETTA 

grounds  of  hearth  and  home.  Had  a  wel 
coming  hand  been  stretched  across  the  sea  she 
would  have  flown  at  once  to  make  acquaint 
ance  with  the  de  Tracys,  cold  and  indifferent 
as  they  had  always  been,  but  no  bidding  ever 
came,  and  the  picture  of  the  Manor  House 
of  Stoke  Revel  on  her  dressing-table  was  the 
only  reminder  of  her  connection  with  that 
ancient  and  honourable  house. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see,  under  the  circum 
stances,  how  the  nineteen-year-old  Robinette 
became  the  wife  of  the  first  man  in  whom 
she  inspired  a  serious  passion. 

It  is  incredible  that  women  should  confuse 
the  passive  process  of  being  loved  with  the 
active  process  of  loving,  but  it  occurs  never 
theless,  and  Robinette  drifted  into  marriage 
with  the  vaguest  possible  notions  of  what  it 
meant ;  feeling  and  knowing  that  she  needed 
something,  and  supposing  it  must  be  a  hus 
band.  It  was  better  fortune,  perhaps,  than 
she  merited,  and  equally  kind  for  both  par 
ties,  that  her  husband  died  before  either  of 


YOUNG  MRS.  LORING  23 

them  realized  the  tragic  mistake.  David  Lor- 
ing  was  too  absorbed  in  his  own  emotions  to 
note  the  absence  of  full  response  on  the  part 
of  his  wife ;  E-obinette  was  too  much  a  child 
and  too  inexperienced  to  be  conscious  of  her 
own  lack  of  feeling. 

It  was  death,  not  life,  that  opened  her  eyes. 
When  David  Loring  lay  in  his  coffin,  Robin- 
ette's  heart  was  suddenly  seized  with  grow 
ing  pains.  Her  vision  widened ;  words  and 
promises  took  on  a  new  and  larger  meaning, 
and  she  became  a  serious  woman  for  her 
years,  although  there  was  an  ineradicable 
gaiety  of  spirit  in  her  that  needed  only  sun 
shine  to  make  it  the  dominant  note  of  her 
nature. 

At  the  moment,  Robinette,  in  the  station 
fly  on  her  way  to  Stoke  Revel,  was  only  in 
the  making,  although  she  herself  considered 
her  life  as  practically  finished.  The  past  and 
the  present  were  moulding  her  into  some 
thing  that  only  the  future  could  determine. 
Sometimes  April,  sometimes  July,  sometimes 


24  ROBINETTA 

witch,  sometimes  woman;  impetuous,  in 
trepid,  romantic,  tempestuous,  illogical,  — 
these  were  but  the  elements  of  which  the 
coming  years  of  experience  had  yet  to  shape 
a  character.  Young  Mrs.  Loring  had  plenty 
of  briars,  but  she  had  good  roots  and  in  fa 
vorable  soil  would  be  certain  to  bear  roses. 

But  in  the  immediate  present,  the  fly  with 
the  immense  American  wardrobe  trunk  be 
side  the  driver,  turned  into  the  avenue  of 
Stoke  Revel,  and  Mrs.  David  Loring  bestowed 
upon  herself  those  little  feminine  attentions 
which  precede  arrival  —  pattings  of  the  hair 
behind  the  ears,  twitches  of  the  veil,  and  pull- 
ings  down  about  the  waist  and  sleeves.  A 
little  toy  of  a  purse  made  of  golden  chain- 
work,  hanging  from  her  wrist,  was  searched 
for  the  driver's  fare,  and  it  had  hardly  snapped 
to  again  when  the  fly  drew  up  before  the 
entrance  to  the  house.  How  interesting  it 
looked !  Robinette  put  her  head  out  of  the 
carriage  window  and  gazed  up  at  the  long 
row  of  windows,  the  old  weather-coloured 


YOUNG  MRS.   LQRING  25 

stones,  and  the  carved  front  of  the  building. 
Here  was  a  house  where  things  might  hap 
pen,  she  thought,  and  her  young  heart  gave 
a  sudden  bound  of  anticipation. 

But  the  door  was  shut,  alas  !  and  a  blank 
feeling  came  over  Robinette  as  she  looked 
at  it.  Some  one  perhaps  would  come  out  and 
welcome  her,  she  thought  for  a  brief  mo 
ment,  but  only  the  butler  appeared,  who, 
with  the  formal  announcement  of  her  name, 
ushered  her  into  a  long,  low  room  with  a 
row  of  windows  on  one  side  and  a  pleasant 
old-fashioned  look  of  comfort  and  habitation. 
She  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  tea-table  with  a 
steaming  urn  upon  it,  heard  the  furious  bark 
ing  of  a  little  dog,  saw  that  there  were  two 
figures  in  the  room  and  moved  instinctively 
towards  the  one  beside  the  window,  the 
figure  in  weeds,  neither  very  tall  nor  very 
imposing,  yet  somehow  formidable. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  an  icy  voice, 
and  a  chill  hand  held  hers  for  a  moment,  but 
did  not  press  it.  The  colour  in  Robinette's 


26  KOBINETTA 

cheeks  paled  and  then  rushed  back,  as  she 
drew  herself  up  unconsciously. 

"  I  am  very  well,  thank  you,  Aunt  de 
Tracy,"  she  answered  with  commendable 
composure. 

"  This  is  my  friend  and  companion,  Miss 
Smeardon,"  continued  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  ad 
vancing  to  the  tea-table  where  that  useful 
personage  officiated.  "Mrs.  David  Loring 
—  Miss  Smeardon."  Miss  Smeardon  had  the 
dog  upon  her  lap,  yapping,  clashing  his 
teeth  together,  and  obviously  thirsting  for 
the  visitor's  blood.  He  was  quieted  with 
soothing  words,  and  Robinette  seated  herself 
innocently  in  the  nearest  chair,  beside  the 
table. 

"  Excuse  me  !  "  the  companion  said  with  a 
slight  cough  ;  "  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  chair !  Do 
you  mind  taking  another  ? "  There  was 
something  disagreeable  in  her  voice,  and 
in  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  deliberate  scrutiny  some 
thing  so  nearly  insulting  that  a  childish 
impulse  to  cry  then  and  there  suddenly 


YOUNG  MRS.   LORING  27 

seized  upon  Robinette.  This  was  her  mother's 
home —  and  no  kiss  had  welcomed  her  to  it, 
no  kind  word  !  There  were  perfunctory  ques 
tions  about  her  journey,  references  to  the 
coldness  and  lateness  of  the  spring,  enquiries 
after  the  health  of  Maria  Spalding  (whose 
mother  was  a  Gallup),  but  no  claiming  of 
kinship,  no  naming  of  her  mother's  name  nor 
of  her  native  country !  Robinette's  ardent 
spirit  had  felt  sorrow,  but  it  had  never  met 
rebuff  nor  known  injustice,  and  the  sudden 
stir  of  revolt  at  her  heart  was  painful  with 
an  almost  physical  pain. 

After  a  long  drawn  hour  of  this  social 
torture,  Mrs.  de  Tracy  rang,  and  a  hard- 
featured  elderly  maid  appeared. 

"  Show  Mrs.  Loring  to  her  room,  Benson," 
said  the  mistress  of  the  house,  "  and  help 
her  to  unpack." 

Robinette  followed  her  conductor  upstairs 
with  a  sinking  heart.  Oh!  but  the  chill  of 
this  English  spring  was  in  her  bones,  and  the 
coldness  of  a  reception  so  frigid  that  her 


28  EOBINETTA 

passionate  young  spirit  almost  rebelled  on 
the  spot,  prompting  wild  ideas  and  impulsive 
impossibilities ;  even  a  flight  to  her  mother's 
old  nurse  —  to  Lizzie  Prettyman,  so  often 
lovingly  described,  with  her  little  thatched 
cottage  beyond  the  river !  Surely  she  would 
find  the  welcome  there  that  was  lacking  here, 
and  the  touch  of  human  kindness  that  one 
craved  in  a  foreign  land.  But  no !  Robin- 
ette  called  to  her  aid  her  strong  American 
common  sense  and  the  "  grit "  that  her 
countrymen  admire.  Was  she  to  confess  her 
self  routed  in  the  very  first  onset  —  the 
very  first  attempt  in  storming  the  ances 
tral  stronghold?  With  a  characteristically 
quick  return  of  hope,  the  Admiral's  niece 
exclaimed,  "  Certainly  not !  " 


M, 


IV 

A    CHILLY   RECEPTION 


.RS.  BENSON  approached  the  wardrobe 
trunk  with  the  air  of  a  person  who  has  taken 
an  immediate  and  violent  dislike  to  an  object. 

"  We  have  all  looked  at  your  box,  ma'am,, 
but  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  are  not  sure  that  it 
is  set  up  properly.  It  is  very  different  from 
any  we  have  ever  seen  at  the  Manor,  and  the 
men  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  it  up  to 
the  room.  I  fancy  it  is  upside  down,  is  it 
not?  No?  We  rather  thought  it  was.  I 
would  call  the  boot-and-knife  boy  to  unlock 
it,  but  he  jammed  his  hand  in  attempting  to 
force  the  catches,  and  I  thought  you  would 
be  kind  enough  to  instruct  me  how  to  open 
it,  perhaps?" 

"I  am  quite  able  to  do  it  myself,"  said 
Robinette,  keeping  down  a  hysterical  laugh. 
"  See  how  easily  it  goes  when  you  know  the 


30  ROBINETTA 

secret ! "  and  she  deftly  turned  her  key  in 
two  locks  one  after  the  other,  let  down  the 
mysterious  facade  of  the  affair,  and  pulled 
out  an  extraordinary  rack  on  which  hung  so 
many  dresses  and  wraps  that  Mrs.  Benson 
lost  her  breath  in  surprise. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  carry  some  of 
your  things  into  another  room,  ma'am  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  They  will  never  go  in  the  wardrobe ; 
it  is  only  a  plain  English  wardrobe,  ma'am. 
We  have  never  had  any  American  guests." 

"  The  things  need  n't  be  moved,"  said  Rob- 
inette,  "many  of  them  will  be  quite  conve 
nient  where  they  are;  —  and  now  you  need 
not  trouble  about  me ;  I  am  well  used  to 
helping  myself,  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to 
come  in  just  before  dinner  for  a  moment." 

Mrs.  Benson  disappeared  below  stairs, 
where  she  regaled  the  injured  boot-and-knife 
boy  and  the  female  servants  with  the  first 
instalment  of  what  was  destined  to  be  the 
most  dramatic  and  sensational  serial  story 
ever  told  at  the  Manor  House. 


A   CHILLY   RECEPTION  31 

"  The  lid  of  the  box  don't  lift  up,"  she 
explained,  "  like  all  the  box  lids  as  ever  I 
saw,  and  me  with  Lady  Chitterton  for  six 
years,  traveling  constantly.  The  front  of  the 
thing  splits  in  the  middle  and  the  bottom 
half  falls  on  the  floor.  A  heathenish  kind  of 
tray  lifts  off  from  its  hinges  like  a  door,  and 
a  clothes  rack  pulls  out  on  runners.  'T  is  a 
sight  to  curdle  your  blood ;  and  the  number 
of  dresses  she  's  brought  would  make  her  out 
to  be  richer  than  Crusoe  !  —  though  I  have 
heard  from  a  cousin  of  mine  who  was  in 
service  in  America  that  the  ladies  over  there 
spend  every  penny  they  can  rake  and  scrape 
on  their  clothes.  Their  husbands  may  work 
their  fingers  to  the  bone,  and  their  parents 
be  in  the  work-house,  but  fine  frocks  they 
will  have ! " 

"  Rather  !  "  said  the  boot-and-knife  boy, 
nursing  his  injured  thumb. 

On  the  departure  of  Mrs.  Benson  from 
her  room,  Robinette  gave  a  stifled  shriek  in 
which  laughter  and  tears  were  equally  min- 


32  ROBINETTA 

gled.  Then  she  flew  like  a  lapwing  to  the 
fire-place  and  lifted  off  a  fan  of  white  paper 
from  the  grate. 

"  No  possibility  of  help  there  ! "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  Cold  within,  cold  without !  How 
shall  I  unpack?  How  shall  I  dress?  How 
shall  I  live  without  a  fire?  Ah  !  here  is  the 
coal  box  !  Empty  !  Empty,  and  it  is  only  the 
month  of  April !  '  Oh !  to  be  in  England 
now  that  April 's  there ! '  How  could  Brown 
ing  write  that  line  without  his  teeth  chatter 
ing  !  How  well  I  understand  the  desire  of 
the  British  to  keep  India  and  South  Africa ! 
They  must  have  some  place  to  go  where  they 
can  get  warm  !  Now  for  unpacking,  or  any 
sort  of  manual  labour  which  will  put  my 
frozen  blood  in  circulation  !  " 

Slapping  her  hands,  beating  her  breast, 
stamping  her  feet,  Mrs.  Loring  removed  a 
few  dresses  from  the  offending  trunk  to  the 
mahogany  wardrobe,  and  disposed  her  effects 
neatly  in  the  drawers  of  bureau  and  highboy. 

"I  have  made  a  mistake  at  the  very  be- 


A  CHILLY  RECEPTION  33 

ginning,"  she  thought.  "  I  supposed  nothing 
could  be  too  pretty  for  the  Manor  House  and 
now  I  am  afraid  my  worst  is  too  fine.  The 
Manor  House  of  Stoke  Revel!  Wouldn't 
that  appeal  to  anyone's  imagination?  Now 
what  for  to-night  ?  White  satin  with  crystal  ? 
Back  you  go  into  the  trunk  !  Back  goes  the 
silver  grey  chiffon  !  I  '11  have  it  re-hung  over 
flannel !  Avaunt !  heliotrope  velvet  with 
amethyst  spangles,  made  with  a  view  to 
ensnaring  the  High  Church  clergy !  I  wish  I 
had  a  princess  dress  of  moleskin  with  a  court 
train  of  squirrel  hanging  from  the  shoulders  ! 
Here  is  the  thing;  my  black  Liberty  satin 
two  years  old.  I  will  cover  part  of  my  ex 
posed  neck  and  shoulders  with  a  fichu  of 
lace;  my  black  silk  openwork  stockings  will 
be  drawn  on  over  a  pair  of  balbriggans,  and 
the  number  of  petticoats  I  shall  don  would 
discourage  a  Scotch  fishwife !  To-morrow 
I  'U  write  Mrs.  Spalding's  maid  to  buy  me 
two  hot-water  bottles,  mittens,  a  box  of 
quinine  tablets  and  a  Shetland  shawl.  .  .  . 


34  KOBINETTA 

What  are  these — fans?  Retire  into  the 
depths  of  that  tray  and  never  look  me  in 
the  face  again !  .  .  .  Parasols  ?  I  won 
der  at  your  impertinence  in  coming  here  !  I 
shall  give  you  cod  liver  oil  and  make  you 
grow  into  umbrellas  !  " 

Presently  the  dinner  gong  growled 
through  the  house,  and  Robinette,  still  shiv 
ering,  flung  across  her  shoulders  a  shimmer 
ing  scarf  of  white  and  silver.  It  fell  over  her 
simple  black  dress  in  just  the  right  way,  add 
ing  a  last  touch  to  the  somewhat  exotic  grace 
which  made  her  a  stranger  in  her  mother's 
home.  Then  she  fled  down  the  darkening 
passages,  instinctively  aware  that  unpunctu- 
ality  was  a  crime  in  this  house.  Yet  in  spite 
of  her  haste,  she  paused  before  the  window 
of  an  upper  lobby,  arrested  by  the  scene  it 
framed.  Heavy  rain  still  fell,  and  the  light, 
made  greenish  by  the  nearness  of  great  trees 
just  coming  into  leaf,  was  cheerless  and 
singularly  cold.  But  that  could  not  mar  the 
majesty  of  the  outlook  which  made  the 


A  CHILLY  RECEPTION  35 

Manor  of  Stoke  Revel,  on  its  height,  unique. 
Far  below  the  house,  the  broad  river  slipped 
towards  the  sea,  between  woods  that  rose 
tier  upon  tier  above  and  beyond  —  woods  of 
beech  and  of  oak,  not  yet  green,  but  purplish 
under  the  rainy  mist.  On  the  bank,  woods 
too,  and  here,  where  the  river,  in  excess  of 
strength,  swirled  into  a  creek  —  a  shining 
sand-bank  where  fishing  nets  were  hung. 
Then  the  low,  strong  tower  of  a  church,  with 
the  sombreness  of  cypress  beside  it,  and  the 
thatched  roofs  of  cottages. 

Something  stirred  in  the  heart  of  Robin- 
ette  as  she  looked,  that  part  of  her  blood 
which  her  English  mother  had  given  her. 
This  scene,  so  indescribably  English  as 
hardly  to  be  imaginable  in  another  land,  had 
been  painted  for  her  again  and  again  by  her 
mother  with  all  the  retrospective  romance  of 
an  exile's  touch.  She  knew  it,  but  she  did 
not  know  if  she  could  ever  love  it,  beautiful 
though  it  was  and  noble. 

But  she  banished  these  misgivings  and  ran 


36  ROBINETTA 

down  the  twisted  stairway  so  fast  that  she 
was  almost  panting  when  she  reached  the 
drawing-room  door. 

"  I  will  take  your  arm,  please,"  said  the 
hostess  coldly,  while  Miss  Smeardon  wore  the 
virtuous  and  injured  air  of  one  who  has  been 
kept  waiting.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  laid,  on  the 
warm  and  smooth  arm  of  her  guest,  one  of 
her  small,  dry  hands,  sparkling  with  rings, 
and  the  procession  closed  with  the  compan 
ion  and  the  lap-dog. 

In  the  dining  room,  the  shutters  were 
closed,  and  the  candles,  in  branching  candle 
sticks  of  silver,  only  partially  lit  a  room  long 
and  low  like  the  other.  The  walls  were  dark 
ened  with  pictures,  and  Eobinette's  bright 
eyes  searched  them  eagerly. 

"  The  Sir  Joshua  is  not  here ! "  she 
thought.  "  And  it  was  not  in  the  drawing 
room.  Has  Aunt  de  Tracy  given,  or  hidden 
it  away  —  my  very  own  name-picture?" 

With  all  her  determination,  Robinette 
somehow  could  not  summon  courage  enough 


A  CHILLY  KECEPTION  37 

to  ask  where  this  picture  was.  Such  a  question 
would  involve  the  mention  of  her  mother's 
name,  and  from  that  she  shrank.  Young  Mrs. 
Loring  had  never  before  found  herself  in  a 
society  where  conversation  was  apparently 
regarded  as  a  crime,  and  to  fit  herself  to  her 
environment,  under  the  scrutiny  of  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  and  the  decidedly  inimical  looks  of 
the  companion,  took  all  her  time.  A  burden 
of  self-consciousness  lay  upon  her  such  as 
her  light  and  elastic  spirit  had  never  known. 
She  found  herself  morbidly  observant  of 
minute  details;  the  pattern  of  the  table 
cloth  ;  the  crest  upon  the  spoons ;  the 
curious  red  knobs  upon  Miss  Smeardon's  fin 
gers,  and  the  odd  mincing  way  she  held  her 
fork ;  the  almost  athletic  efforts  of  the  but 
ler  when  he  raised  an  enormous  silver  dish- 
cover,  and  the  curiously  frugal  and  unappe 
tizing  nature  of  the  viand  it  disclosed.  The 
wizened  face  of  the  lap-dog,  too,  peering  over 
the  table's  edge,  out  of  Miss  Smeardon's  lap, 
might  have  acquired  its  distrustful  expres- 


38  ROBINETTA 

sion,  Robinette  thought,  from  habitual 
doubts  as  to  whether  enough  to  eat  would 
ever  be  his  good  fortune.  The  meal  ended 
with  the  ceremonious  presentation  to  each 
lady  in  turn,  of  three  wrinkled  apples  and 
two  crooked  bananas  in  a  probably  priceless 
dish  of  Crown  Derby.  Then  the  procession 
re-formed  and  returned  to  the  drawing  room. 
"  And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were 
the  first  day !  "  sighed  Robinette  to  herself 
in  the  chilly  solitude  of  her  own  room.  How 
often  could  she  endure  the  repetition  ? 


M. 


AT    WITTISHAM 


.AY  I  have  a  fire  to  dress  by,  Benson  ?  " 
Eobinette  asked  rather  timidly  that  night, 
her  head  just  peeping  above  the  blankets. 

"Fire  f  "  returned  Benson,  in  italics,  with 
an  interrogation  point. 

Robinette  longed  to  spell  the  word  and 
ask  Benson  if  it  had  ever  come  to  her  no 
tice  before,  but  she  stifled  her  desire  and 
said,  "  I  am  quite  ashamed,  Benson,  but  you 
see  I  am  not  used  to  the  climate  yet.  If 
you  '11  pamper  me  just  a  little  at  the  begin 
ning,  I  shall  behave  better  presently." 

"  I  will  give  orders  for  a  fire  night  and 
morning,  certainly,  ma'am,"  said  Benson.  "  I 
did  not  offer  it  because  our  ladies  never  have 
one  in  their  bedrooms  at  this  time  of  the 
year.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  is  very  strong  and 
active  for  her  age." 


40  KOBINETTA 

"  It 's  my  opinion  she 's  a  w'eedler,"  re 
marked  Benson  at  the  housekeeper's  lunch 
eon  table.  "  She  asks  for  what  she  wants  like 
a  child.  She  has  a  pretty  way  with  her,  I 
can't  deny  that,  but  is  she  a  w'eedler  ?  " 

Wheedler  or  not,  Robinette  got  her  fire  to 
dress  by,  and  so  was  able  to  come  down  in 
the  morning  feeling  tolerably  warm.  It  was 
well  that  she  was,  for  the  cold  tea  and  tough 
toast  of  the  de  Tracy  breakfast  had  little 
in  them  to  warm  the  heart.  Conversation 
languished  during  the  meal,  and  after  a 
walk  to  the  stables  Robinette  was  thankful 
to  return  to  her  own  room  again  on  the  pre 
text  of  writing  letters.  There  she  piled  up 
the  fire,  drew  her  chair  close  up  to  the  hearth, 
and  employed  herself  until  noon,  when  she 
took  her  embroidery  and  joined  her  aunt  in 
the  drawing  room.  Luncheon  was  announced 
at  half  past  one,  and  immediately  after  it 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  and  Miss  Smeardon  went  to 
their  respective  bedrooms  for  rest. 

"Are  there  indeed  only  twelve  hours  in 


AT   WITTISHAM  41 

the  day?"  Robinette  asked  herself  desper 
ately  as  she  heard  the  great,  solemn-toned 
hall  clock  strike  two.  It  seemed  quite  im 
possible  that  it  could  be  only  two;  the 
whole  afternoon  had  still  to  be  accounted 
for,  and  how?  Well,  she  might  look  over 
her  clothes  again,  re-arranging  them  in 
all  their  dainty  variety  in  the  wardrobe 
and  drawers;  she  might  put  tissue  paper 
into  the  sleeves  of  each  bodice,  smoothing 
out  every  crease;  she  might  even  find  that 
some  tiny  repairs  were  needed !  There  were 
three  new  hats,  and  several  pairs  of  new 
gloves  to  be  tried  on ;  her  accounts  must  be 
made  up,  her  cheque  book  balanced;  yet 
all  these  things  would  take  but  a  short  time. 
Then  the  hall  clock  struck  three. 

"  I  must  go  out,"  she  thought. 

Coming  through  the  hall  from  her  room 
Robinette  met  her  aunt  and  Miss  Smeardon 
descending  the  staircase. 

"We  are  driving  this  afternoon,"  said 
Mrs.  de  Tracy,  "  would  you  not  like  to  come 
with  us?" 


42  ROBINETTA 

The  thought  turned  Robinette  to  stone  : 
she  had  visited  the  stables,  and  seen  the 
coachman  lead  what  seemed  to  her  a  palsied 
horse  out  into  the  yard.  Her  sympathetic  al 
lusion  to  the  supposed  condition  of  the  steed 
had  not  been  well  received,  for  the  man  had 
given  her  to  understand  that  this  was  the 
one  horse  of  the  establishment,  but  Robinette 
had  vowed  never  to  sit  behind  it. 

"I  think  I'd  rather  walk,  Aunt  de  Tracy," 
she  said, "  I  ?d  like  to  go  and  see  my  mother's 
old  nurse,  Mrs.  Prettyman.  Can  I  do  any 
errands  for  you  ?  " 

"  None,  thank  you.  To  go  to  Wittisham 
you  have  to  cross  the  ferry,  remember." 

"  Oh  !  that  must  be  simple !  you  may  be 
sure  I  shall  not  lose  myself ! "  said  Robinette. 

Both  the  older  women  looked  curiously 
at  her  for  a  moment ;  then  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
said :  — 

"  You  will  kindly  not  use  the  public  ferry ; 
the  footman  will  row  you  across  to  Witti 
sham  at  any  hour  you  may  mention  to  him." 


AT   WITTISH-AM  43 

"  Oh,  but  Aunt  de  Tracy,  I  'd  really  pre 
fer  the  public  ferry." 

"  Nonsense,  impossible  ;  the  footman  shall 
row  you/'  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  with  final- 
ity. 

Robinette  said  nothing;  she  hated  the 
idea  of  the  footman,  but  it  seemed  inevitable. 
"  Am  I  never  to  get  away  from  their  dull 
nesses  ? "  she  thought,  "  A  public  ferry 
sounds  quite  lively  in  place  of  being  rowed 
by  William!" 

When  the  shore  was  reached,  however, 
Robinette  discovered  that  the  passage  across 
the  river  in  a  leaky  little  boat,  rowed  by  a 
painfully  inexperienced  servant,  was  almost 
too  much  for  her.  To  see  him  fumbling 
with  the  oars,  made  her  tingle  to  take  them 
herself ;  she  could  not  abide  the  irritation 
of  a  return  journey  with  such  a  boatman. 
This  determination  was  hastened  when  she 
saw  that  instead  of  the  three-decker  steamer 
of  her  native  land,  the  ferry  at  Wittisham 
was  just  like  an  ordinary  row-boat;  that 


44  KOBINETTA 

one  rang  a  bell  hanging  from  a  picturesque 
tower ;  that  a  nice  young  man  with  a  sprig 
of  wallflower  in  his  cap  rowed  one  across, 
and  that  each  passenger  handed  out  a  penny 
to  him  on  the  farther  side. 

"  How  enchantingly  quaint !  "  she  cried. 
"  William,  you  can  go  home ;  I  shall  return 
by  the  public  ferry." 

William  looked  surprised  but  only  replied, 
"  Very  good,  ma'am." 

On  warm  summer  afternoons  the  tiny  square 
of  Mrs.  Prettyman's  garden  made  as  delight 
ful  a  place  to  sit  in  as  one  could  wish.  There 
was  sunshine  on  the  turf,  and  a  thin  shade 
was  cast  by  the  drooping  boughs  of  the 
plum  tree ;  just  enough  to  shelter  old  eyes 
from  the  glare.  When  she  was  very  tired 
with  doing  her  work  Mrs.  Prettyman  would 
totter  out  into  the  garden.  She  was  getting 
terribly  lame  now,  yet  afraid  to  acknowledge 
it,  knowing,  with  the  desperate  wisdom  of 
poverty,  that  once  to  give  in,  very  often 
ended  in  giving  up  altogether.  So  her  lame- 


AT   WITTISHAM  45 

ness  was  '  blamed  on  the  weather/  '  blamed 
on  scrubbing  the  floor/  blamed  on  any 
thing  rather  than  the  tragic,  incurable  fact 
of  old  age.  This  afternoon  her  rheumatism 
had  been  specially  bad :  she  had  an  incli 
nation  to  cry  out  when  she  rose  from  her 
chair,  and  every  step  was  an  effort.  Yet  the 
sunshine  was  tempting ;  it  warmed  old  and 
aching  bones  through  and  through  as  no  fire 
could  do;  and  Mrs.  Prettyman  thought  she 
must  make  the  effort  to  go  out. 

She  had  just  arrived  at  this  conclusion, 
when  a  tap  came  to  the  door. 

"That  you,  Mrs.  Darke?"  she  called  out 
in  her  piping  old  voice.  "  Come  in,  me  dear, 
I  'm  that  stiff  with  me  rheumatics  to-day  I 
can't  scarce  rise  out  of  me  chair." 

"It's  not  Mrs.  Darke,"  said  Kobinette, 
stooping  to  enter  through  the  tiny  doorway. 
"  It 's  a  stranger,  Mrs.  Prettyman,  come  all 
the  way  from  America  to  see  you." 

"  Lor'  now,  Miss,  whoever  may  you  be  ?  " 
the  old  woman  cried,  making  as  if  she  would 


46  ROBINETTA 

rise  from  her  chair.  But  Robinette  caught 
her  arm  and  made  her  sit  still. 

"Don't  get  up ;  please  sit  right  there  where 
you  are,  and  I  '11  take  this  chair  beside  you. 
Now,  Mrs.  Prettyman,  look  at  me  hard,  and 
tell  me  if  you  know  who  I  am." 

The  old  woman  gazed  into  Robinette's 
face,  and  then  a  light  seemed  to  break  over  her. 

"It 's  Miss  Cynthia's  daughter  you  are  !  " 
she  cried.  "  My  Miss  Cynthia  as  went  and 
married  in  America  ! " 

She  caught  Robinette's  white  ringed  hands 
in  hers,  and  Robinette  bent  down  and  kissed 
the  wrinkled  old  face. 

"I  know  that  mother  loved  you,  Nurse/' 
she  said.  "  She  used  often,  often  to  tell  me 
about  you." 

After  the  fashion  of  old  people,  Mrs. 
Prettyman  was  too  much  moved  to  speak. 
Her  face  worked  all  over,  and  then  slow  tears 
began  to  run  down  her  furrowed  cheeks. 
She  got  up  from  her  chair  and  walked  across 
the  uneven  floor,  leaning  on  a  stick. 


AT    WITTISH-AM  47 

"I've  something  here,  Miss,  I've  some 
thing  here ;  something  I  never  parts  with," 
she  said.  A  tall  chest  of  drawers  stood 
against  the  wall,  and  the  old  woman  began 
to  search  among  its  contents  as  she  spoke. 
At  last  she  found  a  little  kid  shoe,  laid  away 
in  a  handkerchief. 

"See  here,  Miss!  here's  my  Miss  Cyn 
thia's  shoe!  'Twas  tied  on  to  my  wedding 
coach  the  day  I  got  married  and  left  her. 
My  'usband  'e  laughed  at  me  cruel  because 
I  'd  have  that  shoe  with  me ;  but  I  've  kept 
it  ever  since." 

Robinette  came  and  stood  beside  her,  and 
they  both  wept  together  over  the  silly  little 
shoe. 

"  I  want  to  talk  a  great  deal  to  you,  Nurse; 
I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  mother  and 
father,  and  how  they  died,"  said  Robinette 
through  her  tears.  How  strange  that  she 

o  o 

should  have  to  come  to  this  cottage  and  to 
this  poor  old  woman  before  she  found  anyone 
to  whom  she  could  speak  of  her  beloved  dead ! 


48  ROBINETTA 

Her  heart  was  so  full  that  she  could  scarcely 
speak.  A  crowd  of  memories  rushed  into  her 
mind;  last  scenes  and  parting  words;  those 
innumerable  unforgettable  details  that  are 
printed  once  for  all  upon  the  heart  that  loves 
and  feels. 

"  I  'd  like  to  tell  you  about  it  out  of  doors, 
Nurse  dear,"  she  said  tearfully;  "can  you 
come  out  under  the  plum  tree  in  your  garden  ? 
It's  lovely  there." 

"Yes,  dearie,  yes,  we'll  come  out  under 
the  plum  tree,  we  will,"  echoed  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man. 

"  See,  Nursie,  take  my  arm,  I  '11  help  you 
out  into  the  warm  sunshine,"  Robiuette  said. 

They  progressed  very  slowly,  the  old 
woman  leaning  with  all  her  weight  upon  the 
arm  of  her  strong  young  helper.  Then  under 
the  flickering  shade  of  the  tree  they  sat  down 
together  for  their  talk. 

So  much  to  tell,  so  much  to  hear,  the 
afternoon  slipped  away  unknown  to  them, 
and  still  they  were  sitting  there  hand  in  hand 


AT   WITTISHAM  49 

talking  and  listening ;  sometimes  crying  a 
little,  sometimes  laughing ;  a  queerly  as 
sorted  couple,  these  new-made  friends. 

But  when  all  the  recollections  had  been 
talked  over  and  wept  over,  when  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man  had  told  Robinette,  with  the  extraordi 
nary  detail  that  old  people  can  put  into  their 
memories  of  long  ago,  all  that  she  remem 
bered  of  Cynthia  de  Tracy's  childhood, 
then  Robinette  began  to  question  the  old 
woman  about  her  own  life.  Was  she  com 
fortable?  Was  she  tolerably  well  off?  Or 
had  she  difficulty  in  making  ends  meet  ? 

To  these  questions  Mrs.  Prettyman  made 
valiant  answers :  she  had  a  fine  spirit,  and  no 
wish  to  let  a  stranger  see  the  skeleton  in  the 
cupboard.  But  Robinette's  quick  instinct 
pierced  through  the  veil  of  well-meant  brav 
ery  and  touched  the  truth. 

"  Nurse  dear/'  she  said,  "  you  say  you  're 
comfortable,  and  well  off,  but  you  won't 
mind  rny  telling  you  that  I  just  don't  quite 
believe  you." 


50  ROBINETTA 

"  Oh,  my  \lear  heart,  what  's  that  you  be 
sayin'?  callin'  of  me  a  liar?"  chuckled  the 
old  woman  fondly. 

Robinette  rose  from  her  seat  on  the  bench 
and  stood  back  to  scrutinize  the  cottage.  It 
was  exquisitely  picturesque,  but  this  very 
picturesqueness  constituted  its  danger;  for 
the  place  was  a  perfect  death  trap.  The  crum 
bling  cob-walls  that  had  taken  on  those  won 
derful  patches  of  green  colour,  soaked  in  the 
damp  like  a  sponge  :  the  irregularity  of  the 
thatched  roof  that  looked  so  well,  admitted 
trickles  of  rain  on  wet  nights ;  and  the  un 
even  mud  floor  of  the  kitchen  revealed  the 
fact  that  the  cottage  had  been  built  without 
any  proper  foundation.  The  door  did  not 
fit,  and  in  cold  weather  a  knife-like  draught 
must  run  in  under  it.  All  this  Robinette's 
quick,  practical  glance  took  in;  she  gave 
a  little  nod  or  two,  murmuring  to  herself, 
"A  new  thatch  roof,  a  new  door,  a  new 
cement  floor."  Then  she  came  and  sat  down 
again. 


AT   WITTISHAM  51 

*(  Tell  me  now,  how  much  do  you  have  to 
live  on  every  week.  Nurse?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Robinette  —  ma'am,  I  should 
say  -  -  't  is  wonderful  how  I  gets  on ;  and 
then  there's  the  plum  tree — just  seethe 
flourish  on  it,  Missie  dear!  'T  will  have  a 
crop  o'  plums  come  autumn  will  about  drag 
down  the  boughs !  I  don't  know  how 
't  would  be  with  me  without  I  had  the  plum 
tree." 

"  Do  you  really  make  something  by  it  ?  " 
Robinette  asked. 

The  old  woman  chuckled  again.  "  To  be 
sure  I  makes ;  makes  jam  every  autumn ;  a 
sight  o'  jam.  Come  inside  again,  me  dear,  an* 
see  me  jam  cupboard  and  you'll  know." 

She  hobbled  into  the  kitchen,  and  opened 
the  door  of  a  wall  press  in  the  corner.  There, 
row  above  row  stood  a  solid  phalanx  of  jam 
pots;  it  seemed  as  if  a  whole  town  might 
be  supplied  out  of  Mrs.  Prettyman's  cup 
board. 

"  'T  is  well  thought  of,  me  jam,"  the  old 


52  ROBINETTA 

woman  said,  grinning  with  pleasure.  "I be 
very  careful  in  the  preparing  of  'en  ;  gets 
a  penny  the  pound  more  for  me  jam  than 
others,  along  of  its  being  so  fine." 

Robinette  was  charmed  to  see  that  here 
Mrs.  Prettyman  had  a  reliable  source  of 
income,  however  slender. 

"  How  much  do  you  reckon  to  get  from  it 
every  year  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Going  five  pounds,  dear :  four  pounds 
fifteen  shillings  and  sixpence,  last  autumn ; 
and  please  the  Lord  there 's  a  better  crop 
this  season,  so  't  will  be  the  clear  five  pounds. 
Oh !  I  do  be  loving  me  plum  tree  like  a 
friend,  I  do." 

They  turned  back  into  the  sunshine  again, 
that  Robinette  should  admire  this  wonderful 
tree-friend  once  more.  She  stood  under  its 
shadow  with  great  delight,  as  the  Bible  says, 
gazing  up  through  the  intricate  network  of 
boughs  and  blossom  to  the  cloudless  blue 
above  her. 

"It's  heavenly,   Nurse,  just  heavenly!" 


AT  WITTISHAM  53 

she  sighed  as  she  came  and  sat  down  beside 
the  old  woman  again. 

"  Then  there 's  me  duck  too,  Missie ! 
Lard,  now  I  don't  know  how  I  'd  be  without 
I  had  me  duck.  Duckie  I  calls  'er  and 
Duckie  she  is ;  company  she  is,  too,  to  me 
mornin's,  with  her  '  Quack,  Quack,'  under 
the  winder." 

So  the  old  woman  prattled  on,  giving 
Robinette  all  the  history  of  her  life,  with  its 
tiny  joys  and  many  struggles,  till  it  seemed 
to  the  listener  that  she  had  always  known 
Mrs.  Prettyman,  the  plum  tree,  and  her  duck 
—  known  them  and  loved  them,  all  three. 


H 


VI 

MARK  LAVENDAB 


.UNDREDS  of  years  ago  the  street  of 
Stoke  Kevel  village,  if  street  it  could  be 
called,  and  the  tower  of  the  ancient  church, 
must  have  looked  very  much  the  same  as 
now. 

On  such  a  day,  when  the  oak  woods  were 
budding,  and  the  English  birds  singing,  and 
the  spring  sun  was  hot  in  a  clear  sky,  a 
knight  riding  down  the  steep  lane  would 
have  taken  the  same  turn  to  the  left  on  his 
way  to  the  Manor.  Were  he  a  young  man, 
he  would  probably  have  reined  up  his  horse 
for  a  moment,  and  looked,  as  Mark  Laven- 
dar  did  now,  at  the  blithe  landscape  before 
him.  Only  then  the  accessories  would  have 
been  so  different :  the  great  horse,  somewhat 
tired  by  long  hours  of  riding,  the  armour 
that  glinted  in  the  sun,  the  casque  pushed 


MARK  LAVENPAR  55 

up  to  let  the  fresh  air  play  upon  the  rider's 
face ;  such  a  figure  must  have  often  stood 
just  at  that  turn  where  the  lane  wound  up 
the  little  hill.  The  landscape  was  the  same, 
and  young  men  in  all  ages  are  very  much  the 
same,  so  —  although  this  one  had  merely  ar 
rived  by  train,  and  walked  from  the  nearest 
station  — Mark  Lavendar  stopped  and  leaned 
over  the  low  wall  when  he  came  to  the  turn 
of  the  road,  and  looked  down  at  the  river. 

He  boasted  no  war  horse  nor  armour; 
none  of  the  trappings  of  the  older  world 
added  to  his  distinction,  and  yet  he  was  a 
very  pleasing  figure  of  a  man. 

The  gaunt  brown  face  was  quite  hard  and 
solemn  in  expression  ;  ugly,  but  not  com 
monplace,  for  as  a  friend  once  said  of  him, 
"  His  eyes  seem  to  belong  to  another 
person."  It  was  not  this,  but  only  that  the 
eyes,  blue  as  Saint  Veronica's  flower,  showed 
suddenly  a  different  aspect  of  the  man,  an 
unexpected  tenderness  that  flatly  contra 
dicted  the  hard  features  of  his  face.  He 


56  ROBINETTA 

looked  very  nice  when  he  laughed  too,  so 
that  most  people  when  they  had  found  out 
the  trick,  tried  to  make  him  laugh  as  often 
as  possible. 

"  What  a  day !  Heavens !  what  a  lovely 
day,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  leaned  on  the 
low  wall.  "  I  want  to  be  courting  Ama 
ryllis  somewhere  in  these  woods,  and  in 
stead  I  Ve  got  to  go  and  talk  business  with 
that  old  woman  "  ;  and  he  looked  ruefully  to 
wards  the  Manor  House  ;  for  this  was  not 
his  first  visit  by  any  means,  and  he  knew 
only  too  well  the  hours  of  boredom  that 
awaited  him.  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  strange  to  say, 
had  a  soft  side  towards  this  young  man, 
the  son  of  her  family  solicitor.  Mark  was 
invariably  sent  down  by  his  father  when 
there  was  any  business  to  be  transacted  at 
Stoke  Revel.  The  older  man  was  fond  of  a 
good  dinner,  and  hated  circumlocution  about 
affairs,  and  it  was  only  when  a  death  in  the 
family,  or  some  other  crucial  event,  made  his 
presence  absolutely  necessary  that  he  came 


MARK   LAVENDAR  5T 

down  himself.  Mark  was  sacrificed  instead, 
and  many  a  wearisome  hour  had  he  spent  in 
that  house.  However  on  this  occasion  he  had 
been  glad  enough  to  get  out  of  London  for 
a  while ;  the  country  was  divine,  and  even 
the  de  Tracy  business  did  not  occupy  the 
whole  day.  There  would  be  hours  on  the 
river ;  afternoons  spent  riding  along  those 
green  lanes  through  which  he  had  just  passed, 
where  the  banks  were  starred  with  little  vivid 
flowers.  Mark  had  an  almost  childish  delight 
in  such  beauty.  He  had  loitered  on  the  way 
along,  flung  himself  down  on  a  bank  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  burying  his  face  amongst 
the  flowers,  listened  with  a  smile  upon  his 
mouth  to  the  birds  that  chirruped  in  the 
branches  of  the  oak  above  him. 

Now  he  leaned  on  the  low  wall,  and  gazed 
at  the  shining  reaches  of  the  river.  "  What 
a  day!"  he  said  to  himself  again.  "  What  a 
divine  afternoon  " ;  then  he  added  quite  sim 
ply,  "  I  wish  I  were  in  love ;  everyone  under 
eighty  ought  to  be,  on  such  a  day ! " 


58  ROBINETTA 

Even  at  the  age  of  thirty  most  men  of  any 
personal  attractions  have  some  romantic 
memories.  Lavendar  had  his  share,  but  some 
how  that  morning  he  was  disconcertingly 
candid  to  himself.  It  may  have  been  the  sud 
den  change  from  London  air  and  London 
noise ;  something  in  the  clear  transparency 
of  the  April  day,  in  the  flute-like  melody  of 
the  birds'  song,  in  the  dream-like  beauty  of 
the  scene  before  him,  that  made  all  the  moth 
and  rust  that  had  consumed  the  remem 
brances  of  the  past  more  apparent.  There  was 
little  of  the  treasure  of  heaven  there,  —  it 
had  mostly  been  nonsense  or  vanity  or  worse. 
He  wanted,  oh,  how  he  wanted,  to  be  able 
just  for  once  to  surrender  himself  to  what 
was  absolutely  ideal ;  to  have  a  memory  when 
he  was  an  old  man,  of  something  that  had 
no  fault  in  it. 

"  No,  I  Ve  never  been  really  in  love,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  I  may  as  well  confess  it ; 
and  I  daresay  I  never  shall  be,  but  marry  on 
an  impulse  like  most  men,  make  the  best  of 


MARK   LAVENDAR  59 

it  afterwards,  and  have  a  sort  of  middle-class 
happiness  in  the  end  of  the  day." 

"  One,  Two,  Three,"  said  the  church  clock 
from  the  ancient  tower,  booming  out  the 
note,  and  Lavendar  started,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  across  his  dazzled  eyes.  "  Luncheon  is 
a  late  meal  in  that  awful  house,  if  I  remem 
ber,"  he  said,  "  but  it  must  be  over  by  this 
time.  I  really  must  go  in.  Let  me  collect  my 
thoughts ;  the  business  is  '  just  things  in 
general,'  but  especially  the  sale  of  some  cot 
tage  or  other  and  the  land  it  stands  on.  Yes, 
yes,  I  remember ;  the  papers  are  all  right. 
Now  for  the  old  ladies." 

He  made  his  entrance  into  the  Manor 
drawing  room  a  few  minutes  later  with  a 
charming  smile. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  actually  walked  a  few  steps 
to  meet  him,  with  a  greeting  less  frigid  than 
usual. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mark,"  said  she. 
"Bates  said  you  preferred  to  walk  from  the 
station." 


60  ROBINETTA 

Mark  turned  his  kind  eyes  on  Miss  Smear- 
don,  and  held  her  knuckly  hand  in  his  own 
almost  tenderly.  It  was  a  very  bad  habit, 
which  had  led  to  some  mischief  in  the  past, 
that  when  he  was  sorry  for  a  thing  he  wanted 
to  be  very  kind  to  it ;  and  this  made  him 
unusually  pleasing,  and  dangerous! 

"Business  first  and  pleasure  afterwards; 
excellent  maxim ! "  he  said  to  himself  half  an 
hour  later,  as  he  removed  the  dust  of  travel 
from  his  person,  preparatory  to  an  interview 
with  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  "Now  for  it !" 

He  liked  the  drawing  room  at  Stoke  Revel 
and  always  wished  it  had  other  occupants 
when  he  entered  it.  This  afternoon  it  seemed 
particularly  agreeable,  the  open  windows  let 
ting  in  the  slanting  sunshine  and  a  strong 
scent  of  jonquils  and  sweet  briar. 

"Well,  Mrs.  de  Tracy,"  said  Mark,  "I 
am  my  father's  spokesman,  you  know,  and 
we  have  serious  business  to  discuss.  But  tell 
me  first,  how 's  rny  young  friend  Carnaby  ?  " 

"  Thank  you ;  my  grandson  has  a  severe 


MAKK   LAVENDAR  61 

attack  of  quinsy,"  replied  Mrs.  de  Tracy. 
"  He  is  to  have  sick-leave  whenever  the 
Endymion  returns  to  Portsmouth." 

"  Oh !  Carnaby  will  make  short  work  of 
an  attack  of  quinsy,"  said  Lavendar,  genially. 

"  It  would  please  me  better,"  retorted  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  severely,  "if  my  grandson  showed 
signs  of  mental  improvement  as  well  as 
bodily  health.  His  letters  are  ill-spelled,  ill- 
written,  and  ill-expressed.  They  are  the 
letters  of  a  school-boy." 

"He  is  not  much  more  than  a  school-boy, 
is  he?"  suggested  Mark,  "only  fifteen! 
The  mental  improvement  will  come ;  too 
soon,  for  my  taste.  I  like  Carnaby  as  he  is  !  " 

The  young  man  had  seated  himself  beside 
his  hostess  in  an  attitude  of  perfect  ease. 
Though  bored  by  his  present  environment, 
he  was  entirely  at  home  in  it.  Just  because 
he  greatly  dared  towards  her  and  was  never 
afraid,  Mrs.  de  Tracy  liked  him.  With  the 
mere  flicker  of  an  eye-lid,  she  dismissed  the 
attendant  Smear  don. 


62  KOBINETTA 

"  There  has  been  an  offer  for  the  land  at 
Wittisham,"  Lavendar  said,  when  they  were 
alone. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  winced.  "  That  is  no  mat 
ter  of  congratulation  with  me,"  she  said 
bleakly. 

"  But  it  is  with  us,  for  it  is  a  most  excel 
lent  one  ! "  returned  the  young  man  hardily. 
"  The  firm  has  had  the  responsibility  of  ad 
vising  the  sale,  which  we  consider  absolutely 
unavoidable  in  the  present  financial  condi 
tion  of  Stoke  Revel.  We  have  advertised 
for  a  year,  and  advertisement  is  costly.  Now 
comes  an  offer  of  a  somewhat  peculiar  kind, 
but  sound  enough."  Lavendar  here  produced 
a  bundle  of  documents  tied  with  the  tradi 
tional  red  tape.  "  An  artist/'  he  continued, 
"Waller,  R.  A.  — you  know  the  name?" 

"  I  do  not,"  interpolated  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
grimly. 

"  Nevertheless,  a  well  known  painter," 
persisted  Mark,  "  and  one,  as  it  happens,  of 
the  orchard  scenery  of  this  part  of  England. 


MARK   LAVENDAR  63 

He  has  known  Wittisham  for  a  long  time, 
and  only  last  year  he  made  a  success  with  the 
painting  of  a  plum  tree  which  grows  in 
front  of  one  of  the  cottages.  It  was  sold 
for  a  large  sum,  and,  as  a  matter  of  senti 
ment,  I  suppose,  Waller  wishes  to  buy  the 
cottage  and  make  it  into  a  summer  retreat 
or  studio  for  himself." 

"He  cannot  buy  it,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
with  the  snort  of  a  war  horse. 

"  He  cannot  buy  it  apart  from  the  land," 
insinuated  Mark,  "but  he  is  flush  of  cash 
and  ready  to  buy  the  land  too  —  very  nearly 
as  much  as  we  want  to  sell,  and  the  bargain 
merely  waits  your  consent.  The  sum  that 
has  been  agreed  upon  is  of  the  kind  that  a 
man  in  the  height  of  his  triumph  offers  for 
a  fancy  article.  No  such  sum  will  ever  be 
offered  for  land  at  Wittisham  again ;  old  or 
chard  land,  falling  into  desuetude  as  it  is  and 
covered  with  condemned  cottages." 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  was  sternly  silent,  and  Mark 
awaited  her  next  words  with  some  curiosity. 


64  ROBINETTA 

He  felt  like  a  torturer  drawing  the  tooth 
of  a  Jew  in  the  good  old  days.  This  sale  of 
land  was  a  bitter  pill  to  the  widow,  as  it  well 
might  be,  for  it  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end,  as  the  de  Tracy  solicitors  could  have  told 
you.  There  had  been  de  Tracys  of  Stoke  Revel 
since  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  but  there  would 
not  be  de  Tracys  of  Stoke  Revel  much  longer, 
—  unless  young  Carnaby  married  an  heiress 
when  he  came  of  age  —  and  that  no  de 
Tracy  had  ever  done. 

"  The  land  across  the  riyer,"  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
said  at  last,  "  was  the  first  land  the  de  Tracys 
held,  but  much  of  it  went  at  the  Restora 
tion.  Well,  let  this  go  too ! "  she  added 
harshly. 

Mark  blessed  himself  that  indecision  was 
no  part  of  the  lady's  character  and  sighed 
with  relief.  "  My  father  would  like  to  know," 
he  said,  "  what  you  propose  to  do  with  regard 
to  the  old  woman  who  is  the  present  tenant 
of  the  cottage." 

"Elizabeth  Prettyman  is  not  a  tenant," 


MARK  LAVEtfDAR  65 

said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  coldly.  "  She  is  practi 
cally  a  pensioner,  since  she  lives  rent-free." 

"  True,  I  forgot,"  said  Mark  soothingly. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Do  not  suppose  that  it  is  by  my  wish," 
continued  Mrs.  de  Tracy  coldly.  "  I  have  never 
approved  of  supporting  the  peasantry  in  idle 
ness.  This  woman  happened  to  be  for  some 
years  nurse  to  Cynthia  de  Tracy,  my  hus 
band's  younger  sister,  who  deeply  offended 
her  family  by  marrying  an  American  named 
Bean.  I  see  no  claim  in  that  to  a  pension  of 
any  kind." 

"  But  your  husband  saw  it,  I  imagine," 
interpolated  Mark  quietly,  and  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
gave  him  a  fierce  look,  which  he  met,  how 
ever,  without  a  sign  of  flinching. 

"  My  husband  had  a  mistaken  idea  that 
Prettyman  was  poor  when  she  became  a 
widow,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  "  On  the  con 
trary  she  had  relations  quite  well  able  to 
support  her,  I  believe.  I  never  cross  the 
river,  in  these  days,  and  the  matter  has  es- 


06  ROBIXETTA 

caped  ray  memory,  so  that  things  have  been 
left  as  they  -were.*' 

•'•  Xo    great    loss."    said    Mark    candidly, 
"  since  the  cottage  in  its  present  state  is  ut 
terly  unfit  for  anv  tenant.   As  to  Prettvman. 
.  »  » 

is  it  your  intention  to  give  her  notice  to 
quit?" 

"  Unquestionably,  since  the  cottage  is 
needed,"  answered  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  '•  She  has 
occupied  it  too  long  as  it  is."  The  speaker's 
lips  closed  like  a  vice  over  the  words. 

"'  God  pity  Elizabeth  Prettyrnan  ! "  ejacu 
lated  Lavendar  to  himself .  "Might is  Right 
still,  apparently,  at  Stoke  Revel !  "  Aloud 
he  merely  said,  "  A  weak  deference  to  public 
opinion  was  never  a  foible  of  yours.  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  :  but  I  think  I  would  advise  you  to 
consider  some  question  of  compensation  to 
Mrs.  Prettyrnan  for  the  loss  of  the  cottage." 

*•  If  you  can  show  me  that  the  woman  has 
any  legal  claim  upon  the  estate.  I  will  con 
sider  the  question,  but  not  otherwise,"  said 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  with  such  an  air  of  finality 


MARK    LAVENDAR  6T 

that  Lavendar  was  inclined  to  let  the  matter 
drop  for  the  moment. 

•'•'  The  firm,"  he  said,  "will  communicate 
your  wishes  to  Mrs.  Prettyman  by  letter." 

"  Prettyman  cannot  read,"  snapped  Mrs. 
de  Tracy.  "  She  must  be  told,  and  the 
sooner  the  better." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  de  Tracy,"  said  the  young 
man  with  a  short  laugh,  "  provided  it  is  not 
I  who  have  to  tell  her,  well  and  good.  I 
warn  you  the  task  would  not  be  to  my  taste 
unless  compensation  were  offered  her." 

Mrs.  de  Tracy's  features  hardened  to  a 
degree  unusual  even  to  her. 

<;  I  am  apparently  less  tender-hearted  than 
you,"  she  said  sardonically.  "  I  shall,  if  I 
think  fit,  deal  with  Prettyman  in  person." 
The  subject  was  dropped,  and  Lavendar  rose 
to  leave  the  room,  but  Mrs.  de  Tracy  de 
tained  him. 

"  The  Admiral's  niece,  Mrs.  David  Loring, 
is  my  guest  at  present," she  said.  "It  happens 
that  she  has  crossed  the  river  to  Wittisham 


68  ROBINETTA 

and  is  paying  a  visit  to  Prettyman.  I  should 
be  obliged,  Mark,  if  you  would  row  across 
and  fetch  her  back,  as  by  some  misunder 
standing,  my  servant  has  not  waited  for  her. 
You  are  an  oarsman,  I  know." 

The  young  man  consented  with  alacrity. 
"I  shall  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,"  he 
said  cheerfully,  "  I  shall  visit  the  famous  plum 
tree  cottage  and  see  Mrs.  Prettyman  for  my 
self  ;  and  I  shall  have  the  privilege  of  execut 
ing  your  commission  as  Mrs.  Loring's  escort. 
It  sounds  a  very  agreeable  one!" 

"You  have  no  time  to  lose,"  said  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  with  a  glance  at  the  clock. 


_JAI 


VII 

A  CROSS-EXAMINATION 


.VENDAR  escaped  from  the  house,  where, 
even  in  the  smoke-room,  it  seemed  unregener- 
ate  to  light  a  cigar,  and  took  the  path  to  the 
shore. 

"  I  wonder  if  one  woman  staying  in  a  house 
full  of  men  would  find  life  as  depressing  as 
I  do  cooped  up  here  under  precisely  opposite 
circumstances,"  he  thought,  as  he  made  his 
way  through  the  little  church-yard.  "  It  can 
not  be  the  atmosphere  of  femininity  that 
bores  me,  however,  for  Mrs.  de  Tracy  has  a 
strongly  masculine  flavour  and  Miss  Smear- 
don  is  as  nearly  neuter  as  a  person  can 
be." 

He  took  a  couple  of  oars  from  the  boat- 
house  as  he  passed,  and  going  to  the  little 
landing  stage  untied  the  boat  and  started  for 
the  farther  shore. 


70  KOBINETTA 

It  was  good  to  feel  the  water  parting  under 
his  vigorous  strokes  and  delightful  to  exert 
his  strength  after  the  hours  of  stifled  irrita 
tion  at  the  Manor.  It  was  a  bright,  calm  close 
of  day,  when  in  the  rarefied  evening  air  each 
sound  began  to  acquire  the  sharpness  that 
marks  the  hour.  He  could  hear  the  rush  of 
the  waters  behind  the  boat  and  the  voices 
of  the  fishers  farther  up  the  stream.  As  he 
drew  up  to  the  bank  and  took  in  his  oars 
the  stillness  was  so  great  that  you  could  have 
heard  a  pin  fall,  when  suddenly  from  a  tree 
above  him  a  bird  broke  into  one  little  finished 
song  and  then  was  still,  as  if  it  had  uttered 
all  it  wished  to  say. 

"  What  a  heavenly  evening !"  thought 
Lavendar, "  and  what  a  lovely  spot !  That  must 
be  the  cottage  just  above  me.  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
said  I  should  know  it  by  the  plum  tree.  Ah, 
there  it  is!"  Tying  up  the  boat  he  sprang 
up  the  steps  and  walked  along  the  flagged 
path.  The  plum  tree  these  last  few  days  had 
begun  to  look  its  fairest.  The  blossoms  did 


A  CKOSS-EXAMINATION          71 

not  yet  conceal  the  leaves,  but  it  was  a  very 
bower  of  beauty  already.  There  was  a  little 
table  spread  for  tea  under  its  branches,  and 
an  old  woman  like  thousands  of  old  women 
in  thousands  of  cottages  all  over  England, 
was  sitting  behind  it,  precisely  as  if  she  had 
been  a  coloured  illustration  in  a  summer 
number  of  an  English  weekly.  She  was  on 
the  typical  bench  in  the  typical  attitude,  but 
instead  of  the  typical  old  man  in  a  clean  smock 
frock  who  should  have  occupied  the  end  of 
the  bench,  there  sat  beside  her  a  distinctly 
lovely  young  woman.  What  struck  Lavendar 
was  the  wealth  of  colour  she  brought  into  the 
picture :  goldy  brown  hair,  brown  tweed  dress, 
with  a  cape  of  blue  cloth  slipping  off  her 
shoulders,  and  a  brown  toque  with  a  pert  up 
standing  quill  that  seemed  to  express  spirit 
and  pluck,  and  a  merry  heart.  His  quick 
glance  took  in  the  little  hands  that  held  the 
withered  old  ones.  Both  heads  were  bowed 
and  in  the  brown  tweed  lap  was  a  child's  shoe, 
— a  wee,  worn,  fat  shoe.  Beside  it  lay  an  absurd 


72  KOBINETTA 

bit  of  crumpled,  tear-soaked  embroidery  that 
had  been  intended  to  do  duty  as  a  handker 
chief  but  had  evidently  proved  quite  unsea- 
worthy. 

Waddling  about  on  the  flags  close  to  the 
little  table  was  a  large  fat  duck  wearing  a 
look  of  inexpressible  greed.  "  Quack,  quack, 
quack  /"  it  said,  waddling  off  angrily  as 
Lavendar  approached. 

At  the  sound  of  the  duck's  raucous  voice 
both  the  women  looked  up. 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Prettyman's  cottage, 
ma'am?  "  Lavendar  asked  with  his  charming 
smile. 

"  Yes,  sir,  'tis  indeed,  and  who  may  you 
be,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  ?  " 

"I'm  Mr.  Lavendar,  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  law 
yer,  Mrs.  Prettyman.  I'm  come  to  do  some 
business  at  Stoke  Revel,"  he  added,  for  the 
old  face  had  clouded  over,  and  Mrs.  Pretty 
man's  whole  expression  changed  to  one  of 
timid  mistrust.  "  I  really  was  sent  by  Mrs.  de 
Tracy,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Robinette, 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION          73 

"  to  take  you  home ;  Mrs.  Loring,  is  n't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  Mrs.  Loring/'  she  said,  frankly 
holding  out  her  hand  to  him.  "  I  knew  you 
were  expected  at  Stoke  Revel,  but  I  sent  the 
footman  back  myself.  He  spoils  the  scenery 
and  the  river  altogether." 

"I've  got  a  boat  down  there;  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  doesn't  quite  like  your  taking  the 
ferry;  may  I  have  the  honour  of  rowing 
you  across?  My  orders  were  to  bring  you 
back  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  'm  blest  if  I  hurry,"  was  his  unspoken 
comment  as  Robinette  gaily  agreed,  and,  hav 
ing  bidden  good-bye  to  the  old  woman,  with  a 
quick  caress  that  astonished  him  a  good  deal, 
she  laid  down  the  little  shoe  gently  upon  the 
bench,  and  turned  to  accompany  him  to  the 
boat. 

The  river  was  like  a  looking-glass ;  the  air 
like  balm.  "  We'll  take  some  time  getting 
across,  against  the  tide,"  said  Lavendar  reflec 
tively,  as  he  resolved  that  the  little  voyage 


74  EOBINETTA 

should  be  prolonged  to  its  fullest  possible 
extent.  He  was  not  going  into  the  Manor 
a  moment  earlier  than  he  could  help,  when 
this  charming  person  was  sitting  opposite  to 
him.  So  this  was  Mrs.  Loring !  How  differ 
ent  from  the  stout  middle-aged  lady  whom 
Mrs.  de  Tracy's  words  had  conjured  up  when 
he  set  out  to  find  her ! 

"  Old  Mrs.  Prettyman  was  my  mother's 
nurse,"  Robinette  remarked  as  Lavendar 
dipped  his  oars  gently  into  the  stream  and  be 
gan  to  row.  "  I  went  to  see  her  feeling  quite 
grown  up,  and  she  seemed  to  consider  me 
still  a  child ;  I  was  feeling  about  four  years 
old  at  the  moment  when  you  appeared  and 
woke  me  to  the  real  world  again." 

She  had  dried  her  eyes  now  and  had  pulled 
her  hat  down  so  as  to  shade  her  face,  but 
Lavendar  could  see  the  traces  of  her  weep 
ing,  and  the  dear  little  ineffectual  rag  of  a 
handkerchief  was  still  in  one  hand. 

"  What  on  earth  was  she  crying  about  ?  " 
he  thought,  as  with  lowered  eyes  he  rowed 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION          75 

very  slowly  across,  only  just  keeping  the  boat's 
head  against  the  current,  and  glancing  now 
and  then  at  the  young  woman. 

Was  it  possible  that  this  lovely  person  was 
going  to  be  his  fellow-guest  in  that  dull 
house  ?  "  My  word  !  but  she 's  pretty !  and 
what  were  the  tears  about  .  .  .  and  the 
little  shoe  ?  Did  it  belong  to  a  child  of  her 
own?  Can  she  be  a  widow,  I  wonder,"  said 
Lavendar  to  himself. 

"  I  often  think,"  he  said  suddenly,  raising 
his  head,  "  that  when  two  people  meet  for  the 
first  time  as  utter  strangers  to  each  other, 
they  should  be  encouraged,  not  forbidden,  to 
ask  plain  questions.  It  maybe  my  legal  train 
ing,  but  I  'd  like  all  conversation  to  begin  in 
that  way.  As  a  child  I  was  constantly  re 
proved  for  my  curiosity,  especially  when  I  once 
asked  a  touchy  old  gentleman,  c  Which  is 
your  glass  eye?  The  one  that  moves,  or  the 
one  that  stands  still?'" 

The  tears  had  dried,  the  hat  was  pushed 
back  again,  the  young  woman's  face  broke 


76  KOBINETTA 

into  an  April  smile  that  matched  the  day  and 
the  weather. 

"  Oh,  come,  let  us  do  it,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  'd  love  to  play  it  like  a  new  game :  we 
know  nothing  at  all  about  each  other,  any 
more  than  if  we  had  dropped  from  the  moon 
into  the  boat  together.  Oh!  do  be  quick! 
We've  so  little  time;  the  river  is  quite  nar 
row;  who's  to  open  the  ball?" 

"I'll  begin,  by  right  of  my  profession; 
put  the  witness  in  the  box,  please.  —  What 
is  your  name,  madam?" 

"Robinette  Loring,"  she  said  demurely, 
clasping  her  hands  on  her  knee,  an  almost 
childlike  delight  in  the  new  game  dimpling 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  from  time  to  time. 

"  What  is  your  age,  madam  ?  "  Lavendar 
hesitated  just  for  a  moment  before  putting 
this  question. 

"I  refuse  to  answer;  you  must  guess." 

"  Contempt  of  Court—  " 

"  Well,  go  on ;  I  'm  twenty-two  and  six 
weeks." 


A  CROSS-EXAMINATION          77 

"  Thank  you,  you  are  remarkably  well  pre 
served.  I  can  hardly  believe  —  those  six- 
weeks  !  What  nationality  ?  " 

"  American,  of  course,  or  half  and  half ; 
with  an  English  mother  and  American  ideas." 
"  Thank  you.  Where  is  your  present  place 
of  residence  ?  " 

"  Stoke  Revel  Manor  House." 
"  What  is  the  duration  of  the  visit  ?  " 
"  Fixed  at  a  month,  but  may  be  shortened 
at  any  time  for  bad  behaviour." 
"Your  purpose  in  coming  to  Stoke  Revel?" 
"  A   Sentimental   Journey,  in    search  of 
fond  relations." 

"Have  you  found  these  relations?  " 
"  I  Ve  found  them ;  but  the  fondness  is  still 
to  seek." 

"  Have  you  left  your  family  in  America?" 
"I  have  no  one  belonging  to  me  in  the 
world,"  she  answered  simply,  and  her  bright 
face  clouded  suddenly. 

There  was  a  moment's  rather  embarrassed 
silence.  "  It 's  getting  to  be  a  sad  game  "  ; 


78  KOBINETTA 

she  said.  "It's  my  turn  now.  I'll  be  the 
cross-examiner,  but  not  having  had  your 
legal  training,  I  '11  tell  you  a  few  facts  about 
this  witness  to  begin  with.  He's  a  lawyer;  I 
know  that  already,.  Your  Christian  name, 
sir?" 

"Mark." 

"  Mark  Lavendar.  '  Mark  the  perfect 
man.'  Where  have  I  heard  that;  in  Pope 
or  in  the  Bible  ?  Thank  you ;  very  good ; 
your  age  is  between  thirty  and  thirty-five, 
with  a  strong  probability  that  it  is  thirty- 
three.  Am  I  right?" 

' f  Appr oxim ately ,  madam . ' ' 

"You  are  unmarried,  for  married  men 
don't  play  games  like  this;  they  are  too 
sedate." 

"  You  reassure  me  !  Am  I  expected  to  ac 
knowledge  the  truth  of  all  your  observa 
tions?" 

"  You  have  only  to  answer  my  questions, 


sir." 


"  I  am  unmarried,  madam." 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION          79 

"  Your  nationality  ?  " 

"English  of  course.  You  don't  count  a 
French  grandmother,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Robinette  clapped  her  hands.  "  Of  course 
I  do;  it  accounts  for  this  game;  it  just 
makes  all  the  difference.  —  Why  have  you 
come  to  Stoke  Revel;  couldn't  you  help 
it?" 

A  twinkle  passed  from  the  blue  eyes  to 
the  brown  ones. 

"I  am  here  on  business  connected  with 
the  estate." 

"For  how  long?" 

"An  hour  ago  I  thought  all  might  be 
completed  in  a  few  days,  but  these  affairs  are 
sometimes  unaccountably  prolonged !  "  (Was 
there  another  twinkle  ?  Robinette  could 
hardly  say.)  They  were  half-way  across  the 
river  now.  She  leaned  over  and  looked  at  her 
self  in  the  water  for  a  moment. 

Lavendar  rested  on  his  oars,  and  began  to 
rub  the  palms  of  his  hands,  smiling  a  little 
to  himself  as  he  bent  his  head. 


80  ROBINETTA 

"Yours  is  an  odd  Christian  name,"  he 
said.  "  I  've  never  heard  it  before." 

"  Then  you  have  n't  visited  your  National 
Gallery  faithfully  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Loring. 
"  Robinetta  is  one  of  the  Sir  Joshua  pictures 
there,  you  know,  and  it  was  a  great  favourite 
of  my  mother's  in  her  girlhood.  Indeed  she 
saved  up  her  pin-money  for  nearly  two  years 
that  she  might  have  a  good  copy  of  it  made 
to  hang  in  her  bedroom  where  she  could 
look  at  it  night  and  morning." 

"  Then  you  were  named  after  the  pic 
ture?" 

"  I  was  named  from  the  memory  of  it," 
said  Robinette,  trailing  her  hand  through  the 
clear  water.  "  Mother  took  nothing  to  Amer 
ica  with  her  but  my  father's  love  (there  was 
so  much  of  that,  it  made  up  for  all  she  left 
behind),  so  the  picture  was  thousands  of 
miles  away  when  I  was  born.  Mother  told 
me  that  when  I  was  first  put  into  her  arms 
she  thought  suddenly,  as  she  saw  my  dark 
head, '  Here  is  my  own  Robinetta,  in  place  of 


A  CROSS-EXAMINATION          81 

the  one  I  left  behind/  and  fell  asleep  straight 
away,  full  of  joy  and  content." 

"  And  they  shortened  the  name  to  Robin- 
ette?" 

"  I  was  christened  properly  enough,"  she 
answered.  "It  was  the  world  that  clipped 
my  name's  little  wings;  the  world  refuses 
to  take  me  seriously ;  I  can't  think  why, 
I  'm  sure  ;  I  never  regarded  it  as  a  joke." 

"  A  joke/'  said  Lavendar  reflectively ; 
"  it 's  a  sort  of  grim  one  at  times ;  and  yet 
it 's  funny  too,"  he  said,  suddenly  raising  his 
eyes. 

"  Now  that 's  the  odd  thing  I  was  thinking 
as  I  looked  at  you  just  now/'  Robinette  said 
frankly.  "  You  seem  so  deadly  solemn  until 
you  look  up  and  laugh  —  and  then  you  do 
laugh,  you  know.  That 's  the  French  grand 
mother  again  !  It  was  nice  in  her  to  marry 
your  grandfather !  It  helped  a  lot !  " 

He  laughed  then  certainly,  and  so  did 
she,  and  then  pointed  out  to  him  that 
they  were  being  slowly  drifted  out  of  their 


82  EOBINETTA 

course,  and  that  if  he  meant  to  get  across 
to  the  landing-stage  he  must  row  a  little 
harder. 

"  I  have  met  American  women  casually ;" 
he  said,  bending  to  his  oars,  "  but  I  have 
never  known  one  well." 

"  It 's  rather  too  bad  to  disturb  the  tran 
quillity  of  your  impressions,"  returned  Mrs. 
Loring  composedly. 

Lavendar  looked  up  with  another  twinkle. 
She  seemed  to  provoke  twinkles ;  he  did  not 
realize  he  had  so  many  in  stock. 

"  You  mean  American  women  are  not 
painted  in  quite  the  right  colours  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  black  is  a  colour  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  see  your  point  of  view !  "  and 
Lavendar  twinkled  again. 

"  I  can  tell  you  in  five  sentences  exactly 
what  you  have  heard  about  us.  Will  you  say 
whether  I  am  right  ?  If  you  refuse  I  '11  put 
you  in  the  witness  box  and  then  you  '11  be 
forced  to  speak  !  " 

"Very  well;  proceed." 


A  CROSS-EXAMINATION          83 

"  One  :  We  are  clever,  good  conversation 
alists,  and  as  cold  as  icicles." 

"  Yes." 

"  Two :  We  dress  beautifully  and  use  ex 
travagant  means  to  compass  our  ends  in  this 
direction." 

"  Yes." 

"  Three  :  We  keep  our  overworked  hus 
bands  under  strict  discipline." 

"  Yes  !  I  say,  —  I  don't  like  this  game." 

"  Neither  do  I,  but  it 's  very  much 
played, — 

"  Four  :  We  prefer  hotels  to  home  life  and 
don't  bring  up  our  children  well." 

"Yes." 

"  Five  :  We  interfere  with  the  proper  game 
laws  by  bagging  English  husbands  instead 
of  staying  on  our  own  preserves.  That 's  about 
all,  I  think.  Were  not  those  rumours  toler 
ably  familiar  to  you  in  the  ha'penny  papers 
and  their  human  counterparts  ?  " 

Lavendar  was  so  amused  by  this  direct 
storming  of  his  opinion  that  he  could  hardly 


84  ROBINETTA 

keep  his  laughter  within  -bounds.  "I've 
heard  one  other  criticism/'  he  said,  "  that 
you  were  all  pretty  and  all  had  small  feet  and 
hands  !  I  am  now  able  to  declare  that  to  be 
a  base  calumny  and  to  hope  that  all  the 
others  will  prove  just  as  false  !  "  Then  Robin- 
ette  laughed  too;  eyes,  lips,  cheeks!  When 
Lavendar  looked  at  her  he  wished  that  his 
father  would  keep  him  at  Stoke  Revel  for  a 
month. 

The  sun  was  going  down  now,  and  the 
rising  tide  came  swelling  up  from  the  sea, 
lifting  itself  and  silently  swelling  the  volume 
of  the  river,  in  a  way  that  had  something 
awful  about  it.  The  whole  current  of  the 
great  stream  was  against  it,  but  behind  was 
the  force  of  the  sea  and  so  it  filled  and  filled 
with  hardly  a  ripple,  as  the  heart  is  filled 
with  a  new  desire.  Up  from  the  mouth  of 
the  river  came  a  faint  breeze  bringing  the 
taste  of  the  ocean  into  the  deeply  wooded 
creeks.  It  had  freshened  into  a  little  wind,  as 
they  drew  up  at  the  boat-house,  that  flapped 


A  CROSS-EXAMINATION          85 

Robinette's  blue  cape  about  her,  and  dyed 
the  colour  in  her  cheeks  to  a  livelier  tint. 
As  they  walked  up  the  narrow  pathway  to  the 
house  a  deep  silence  fell  between  them  that 
neither  attempted  to  break. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill,  she  paused  to  take 
breath,  and  look  across  the  river.  It  was 
half  dark  already  there,  on  the  other  side  in 
the  deep  shadow  of  the  hill ;  and  a  lamp  in 
the  window  of  the  cottage  shone  like  a  star 
beside  the  faintly  green  shape  of  the  bud 
ding  plum  tree. 

As  Robinette  entered  the  door  of  the 
Manor  House  she  took  out  her  little  gold- 
meshed  purse  and  handed  Mark  Lavendar  a 
penny. 

"It's  none  too  much,"  she  said,  meeting 
his  astonished  gaze  with  a  smile.  "  I  should 
have  had  to  pay  it  on  the  public  ferry,  and 
you  were  ever  so  much  nicer  than  the  foot 
man  ! " 

Lavendar  put  the  penny  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket  and  has  never  spent  it  to  this  day.  It 


86  EOBINETTA 

is  impossible  to  explain  these  things;  one 
can  only  state  them  as  facts.  Another  fact, 
too,  that  he  suddenly  remembered,  when  he 
went  to  his  room,  was,  that  the  moment  her 
personality  touched  his  he  was  filled  with 
curiosity  about  her.  He  had  met  hundreds 
of  women  and  enjoyed  their  conversation, 
but  seldom  longed  to  know  on  the  instant 
everything  that  had  previously  happened  to 
them. 


o, 


VIII 

SUNDAY    AT    STOKE    REVEL 


N  Sundays,  the  Stoke  Revel  household 
was  expected  to  appear  at  church  in  full 
strength,  visitors  included. 

"  We  meet  in  the  hall  punctually  at  a 
quarter  to  eleven/'  it  was  Miss  Smeardon's 
duty  to  announce  to  strangers.  "  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  always  prefers  that  the  Stoke  Revel 
guests  should  walk  down  together,  as  it  sets 
a  good  example  to  the  villagers." 

"  What  Nelson  said  about  going  to  church 
with  Lady  Hamilton  ! "  Lavendar  had  once 
commented,  irrrepressibly,  but  the  allusion, 
rather  fortunately,  was  lost  upon  Miss  Smear- 
don.  Mark  began  to  picture  the  familiar 
Sunday  scene  to  himself ;  Miss  Smeardon  in 
the  hall  at  a  quarter  to  eleven  punctually, 
marshalling  the  church-goers ;  and  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing,  —  she  would  be  late  of  course,  and 


88  ROBINETTA 

come  fluttering  downstairs  in  some  bewitch 
ing  combination  of  flowery  bat  and  floating 
scarf  tbat  no  one  had  ever  seen  before.  What 
a  lover's  opportunity  in  this  lateness,  thought 
the  young  man  to  himself ;  but  one  could 
enjoy  a  walk  to  church  in  charming  com 
pany,  though  something  less  than  a  lover. 

It  was  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  custom,  on  Sunday 
mornings,  to  precede  her  household  by  half 
an  hour  in  going  to  the  sanctuary.  No  in 
firmities  of  old  age  had  invaded  her  iron 
constitution,  and  it  was  nothing  to  her  to 
walk  alone  to  the  church  of  Stoke  Revel, 
steep  though  the  hill  was  which  led  down 
through  the  ancient  village  to  the  yet  more 
ancient  edifice  at  its  foot.  During  this  soli 
tary  interval,  Mrs.  de  Tracy  visited  her  hus 
band's  tomb,  and  no  one  knew,  or  dared,  or 
cared  to  enquire,  what  motive  encouraged 
this  pious  action  in  a  character  so  devoid  of 
tenderness  and  sentiment.  Was  it  affection, 
was  it  duty,  was  it  a  mere  form,  a  tribute  to 
the  greatness  of  an  owner  of  Stoke  Revel, 


SUNDAY   AT   STOKE   REVEL       89 

such  as  a  nation  pays  to  a  dead  king  ?  Who 
could  tell? 

The  graveyard  of  Stoke  Revel  owned  a 
yew  tree,  so  very,  very  old  that  the  count  of 
its  years  was  lost  and  had  become  a  fable  or 
a  fairy  tale.  It  was  twisted,  gnarled,  and  low ; 
and  its  long  branches,  which  would  have 
reached  the  ground,  were  upheld,  like  the 
arms  of  some  dying  patriarch,  by  supports, 
themselves  old  and  moss-grown.  Under  the 
spreading  of  this  ancient  tree  were  graves, 
and  from  the  carved,  age-eaten  porch  of  the 
church,  a  path  led  among  them,  under  the 
green  tunnel,  out  into  the  sunny  space  be 
yond  it.  The  Admiral  lay  in  a  vault  of  which 
the  door  was  at  the  side  of  the  church,  for  no 
de  Tracy,  of  course,  could  occupy  a  mere 
grave,  like  one  of  the  common  herd;  and 
here  walked  the  funereal  figure  of  Mrs.  de 
Tracy,  fair  weather  or  foul,  nearly  every 
Sunday  in  the  year. 

In  justice  to  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  it  must  be 
made  plain  that  with  all  her  faults,  small 


90  KOBINETTA 

spite  was  not  a  part  of  her  character.  Yet  to 
day,  her  anger  had  been  stirred  by  an  inci 
dent  so  small  that  its  very  triviality  annoyed 
her  pride.  It  was  Mark  Lavendar's  custom, 
when  his  visits  to  Stoke  Revel  included  a 
Sunday,  cheerfully  to  evade  church-going. 
His  Sundays  in  the  country  were  few,  he 
said,  and  he  preferred  to  enjoy  them  in  the 
temple  of  nature,  generally  taking  a  long 
walk  before  lunch.  But  to-day  he  had  an 
nounced  his  intention  of  coming  to  service, 
and  well  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  versed  in  men  and 
in  human  nature,  knew  why.  Robinette 
would  be  there,  and  Lavendar  followed,  as 
the  bee  follows  a  basket  of  flowers  on  a 
summer  day.  As  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  like  the 
Stoic  that  she  was,  accepted  all  the  inevitable 
facts  of  life,  —  birth,  death,  love,  hate  (she 
had  known  them  all  in  her  day),  she  accepted 
this  one  also.  But  in  that  atrophy  of  every 
feeling  except  bitterness,  that  atrophy  which 
is  perhaps  the  only  real  solitude,  the  only  real 
old  age,  her  animosity  was  stirred.  It  was  as 


SUNDAY  AT   STOKE   KEVEL       91 

though  a  dead  branch  upon  some  living  tree 
was  angry  with  the  spring  for  breathing  on 
it.  As  she  returned,  herself  unseen  in  the 
shadow  of  the  yew  tree,  she  saw  Lavendar 
and  Robinette  enter  together  under  the  lych- 
gate,  the  figure  of  the  young  woman  touched 
with  sunlight  and  colour,  her  lips  moving, 
and  Lavendar  smiling  in  answer.  In  the 
clashing  of  the  bells  —  bells  which  shook  the 
air,  the  earth,  the  ancient  stones,  the  very 
nesta  upon  the  trees  —  their  voices  were  in 
audible,  but  in  their  faces  was  a  young  hap 
piness  and  hope  to  which  the  solitary  woman 
could  not  blind  herself. 

Presently  in  the  lukewarm  air  within,  Rob 
inette  was  finding  the  church's  immemorial 
smell  of  prayer-books,  hassocks,  decaying 
wood,  damp  stones,  matting,  school-children, 
and  altar  flowers,  a  harmonious  and  suggestive 
one  if  not  pleasant.  What  an  ancient  air  it 
was,  she  thought ;  breathed  and  re-breathed 
by  slow  generations  of  Stoke  Revellers  during 
their  sleepy  devotions !  The  very  light  that 


92  KOBINETTA 

entered  through  the  dim  stained  glass  seemed 
old  and  dusty,  it  had  seen  so  much  during 
so  many  hundred  years,  seen  so  much,  and 
found  out  so  many  secrets !  Soon  the  clash 
ing  of  the  bells  ceased  and  upon  the  still 
reverberating  silence  there  broke  the  small, 
snoring  noises  of  a  rather  ineffectual  organ, 
while  the  amiable  curate,  Kev.  Tobias  Finch, 
made  his  appearance,  and  the  service  began. 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  had  entered  the  pew  first, 
naturally ;  Miss  Smeardon  sat  next,  then 
Robinette.  Lavendar  occupied  the  pew  in 
front,  alone,  and  through  her  half-closed 
eyelids  Robinette  could  see  the  line  of  his  lean 
cheek  and  bony  temple.  He  had  not  wished 
to  sit  there  at  all  and  he  was  so  unresigned  as 
to  be  badly  in  need  of  the  soothing  influences 
of  Morning  Prayer.  Robinette  was  beginning 
to  wonder  dreamily  what  manner  of  man  this 
really  was,  behind  his  plain  face  and  non-corn- 
mittal  manner,  when  the  muffled  slam  of  a 
door  behind,  startled  her,  followed  as  it  was 
by  a  quick  step  upon  the  matted  aisle.  Then 


SUNDAY  AT   STOKE   KEVEL       93 

without  further  warning,  a  big,  broad-shoul 
dered  boy,  in  the  uniform  of  a  British  mid 
shipman,  thrust  himself  into  the  pew  beside 
her,  hot  and  breathless  after  running  hard. 
Mrs.  Loring  guessed  at  once  that  this  must 
be  Carnaby  de  Tracy,  the  young  hopeful  and 
heir  of  Stoke  Revel  of  whom  Mr.  Lavendar 
had  so  often  spoken,  but  the  startling  and  un 
conventional  nature  of  his  appearance  was 
not  at  all  what  one  expected  in  a  member  of 
his  family.  Robinette  stole  more  than  one 
look  at  him  as  the  offertory  went  round ; 
a  robust  boy  with  a  square  chin,  a  fair  face 
burnt  red  by  the  sun,  a  rollicking  eye  and  an 
impudent  nose;  not  handsome  certainly,  in 
deed  quite  plain,  but  he  looked  honest  and 
strong  and  clean,  and  Robinette's  frolicsome 
youth  was  drawn  to  his,  all  ready  for  fun. 
Carnaby  hitched  about  a  good  deal,  dropped 
his  hymn-book,  moved  the  hassock,  took  out 
his  handkerchief,  and  on  discovering  a  huge 
hole,  turned  crimson. 

Service  over,  the  congregation  shuffled  out 


94  KOBINETTA 

into  the  sunshine,  and  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  after  a 
characteristically  cool  and  disapproving  rec 
ognition  of  her  grandson,  became  occupied 
with  villagers.  La vendar  made  known  young 
Carnaby  to  Mrs.  David  Loring,  but  the  mid 
shipman's  light  grey  eyes  had  discovered  the 
pretty  face  without  any  assistance. 

"  This  lady  is  your  American  cousin,  Car 
naby,"  said  Mark.  "  Did  you  know  you  had 
one?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  did,"  answered  the  boy, 
"  but  it 's  never  too  late  to  mend !  "  He  at 
tempted  a  bow  of  finished  grown-upness, 
failed  somewhat,  and  melted  at  once  into  an  en 
gaging  boyishness,  under  which  his  frank  ad 
miration  of  his  new-found  relative  was  not  to 
be  hidden.  "I  say,  are  you  stopping  at  Stoke 
Revel?"  he  asked,  as  though  the  news  were 
too  good  to  be  true.  "  Jolly !  Hullo  —  "  he 
broke  off  with  animation  as  the  cassocked 
figure  of  the  Rev.  Tobias  Finch  fluttered  out 
from  the  porch  —  "  here 's  old  Toby  !  Watch 
Miss  Smeardon  now !  She  expects  to  catch 


SUNDAY  AT   STOKE  REVEL      95 

him,  you  know,  but  he  says  he 's  going  to  be  a 
celly —  celly-what-d'you-call-'em  ?  " 

"  Celibate  ?  "  suggested  Lavendar,  with 
laughing  eyes. 

"  The  very  word,  thank  you  !  "  said  Car- 
naby.  "  Yes :  a  celibate.  Not  so  easily  nicked, 
good  old  Toby  —  you  bet !  " 

"  Do  the  clergymen  over  here  always  dress 
like  that?"  inquired  Robinette,  trying  to 
suppress  a  tendency  to  laugh  at  his  slang. 

"  Cassock  ?  "  said  Carnaby.  "  Toby  would 
n't  be  seen  without  it.  High,  you  know ! 
Bicycles  in  it.  Fact !  Goes  to  bed  in  it,  I 
believe." 

"  Carnaby,  Carnaby  !  Come  away !  "  said 
Lavendar.  "  Restrain  these  flights  of  imagi 
nation  !  Don't  you  see  how  they  shock  Mrs. 
Loring?" 

Before  the  Manor  was  reached,  Robinette 
and  Carnaby  had  sworn  eternal  friendship 
deeper  than  any  cousinship,  they  both  de 
clared.  They  met  upon  a  sort  of  platform  of 
Stoke  Revel,  predestined  to  sympathy  upon 


96  KOBINETTA 

all  its  salient  characteristics;  two  naughty 
children  on  a  holiday. 

"  Do  you  get  enough  to  eat  here  ?  "  asked 
Carnaby  in  a  hollow  whisper,  in  the  drawing- 
room  before  lunch. 

"  Of  course  I  have  enough,  Middy/'  an 
swered  Robinette  with  unconscious  reserva 
tion.  She  had  rejected  "  Carnaby  "  at  once 
as  a  name  quite  impossible :  he  was  "  Middy  " 
to  her  almost  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
acquaintance. 

"  Enough  ?  "  he  ejaculated,  "  /  don't !  I  'd 
never  be  fed  if  it  were  n't  for  old  Bates  and 
Mrs.  Smith  and  Cooky."  Bates  was  the  but 
ler,  Mrs.  Smith  the  housekeeper,  and  Cooky 
her  satellite.  "  Nobody  gets  enough  to  eat  in 
this  house  !  "  added  Carnaby  darkly, "  except 
the  dog." 

At  the  lunch-table,  the  antagonism  natural 
between  a  hot-blooded  impetuous  boy  and  a 
grandmother  such  as  Mrs.  de  Tracy  became 
rather  painfully  apparent.  He  had  already 
been  hauled  over  the  coals  for  his  arrival  on 


SUNDAY   AT   STOKED  REVEL       97 

Sunday  and  his  indecorous  appearance  in 
church  after  service  had  begun. 

"  It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  you  are  at 
all  in  need  of  sick-leave,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
suspiciously. 

Carnaby,  sensitive  for  all  his  robustness, 
flushed  hotly,  and  then  became  impertinent. 
"  My  pulse  is  twenty  beats  too  quick  still, 
after  quinsy.  If  you  don't  believe  the  doctor, 
ma'am,  it's  not  my  fault." 

"  Carnaby  has  committed  indiscretions  in 
the  way  of  growing  since  I  last  saw  him," 
Lavendar  broke  in  hastily.  "  At  sixteen  one 
may  easily  outgrow  one's  strength  ! " 

" Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  frigidly. 
The  situation  was  saved  by  the  behaviour  of 
the  lap-dog,  which  suddenly  burst  into  a 
passion  of  barking  and  convulsive  struggling 
in  Miss  Smeardon's  arms.  His  enemy  had 
come,  and  Carnaby  had  fifty  ways  of  exas 
perating  his  grandmother's  favourite,  secrets 
between  him  and  the  bewildered  dog.  Ru 
pert  was  a  Prince  Charles  of  pedigree  as 


98  ROBINETTA 

unquestioned  as  his  mistress's  and  an  ap 
pearance  dating  back  to  Vandyke,  but  Car- 
naby  always  addressed  him  as  "  Lord  Rob 
erts/'  for  reasons  of  his  own.  It  annoyed  his 
grandmother  and  it  infuriated  the  dog,  who 
took  it  for  a  deadly  insult. 

"Lord  Roberts!  Bobs,  old  man,  hi!  hi!" 
Carnaby  had  but  to  say  the  words  to  make 
the  little  dog  convulsive.  He  said  them  now, 
and  the  results  seemed  likely  to  be  fatal  to 
a  dropsical  animal  so  soon  after  a  full  meal. 

"  You  '11  kill  him  !  "  whispered  Robinette 
as  they  left  the  dining  room. 

"I  mean  to  !"  was  the  calm  reply.  "I'd 
like  to  wring  old  Smeardon's  neck  too  !  "  but 
the  broad  good  humour  of  the  rosy  face,  the 
twinkling  eyes,  belied  these  truculent  words. 
In  spite  of  infinite  powers  of  mischief,  there 
was  not  an  ounce  of  vindictiveness  in  Car 
naby  de  Tracy,  though  there  might  be  other 
qualities  difficult  to  deal  with. 

"  There 's  a  man  to  be  made  there  —  or  to 
be  marred ! "  said  Robinette  to  herself. 


IX 

POINTS    OF   VIEW 

IVENINGS  at  Stoke  Revel  were  of  a  dull 
ness  all  too  deep  to  be  sounded  and  too  closely 
hedged  in  by  tradition  and  observance  to  be 
evaded  or  shortened  by  the  boldest  visitor. 
Lavendar  and  the  boy  would  have  prolonged 
their  respite  in  the  smoking  room  had  they 
dared,  but  in  these  later  days  Lavendar  found 
he  wished  to  be  below  on  guard.  The  thought 
of  Robinette  alone  between  the  two  women 
downstairs  made  him  uneasy.  It  was  as  though 
some  bird  of  bright  plumage  had  strayed  into 
a  barnyard  to  be  pecked  at  by  hens.  Not  but 
what  he  realised  that  this  particular  bird  had 
a  spirit  of  her  own,  and  plenty  of  courage, 
but  no  man  with  even  a  prospective  inter 
est  in  a  pretty  woman,  likes  to  think  of  the 
object  of  his  admiration  as  thoroughly  well 
able  to  look  after  herself.  She  must  needs 


100  ROBINETTA 

have  a  protector,  and  the  heaven-sent  one  is 
himself. 

He  had  to  take  up  arms  in  her  defense 
on  this,  the  first  night  of  his  arrival.  Mrs. 
Loring  had  gone  up  to  her  room  for  some 
photographs  of  her  house  in  America,  and 
as  she  flitted  through  the  door  her  scarf 
caught  on  the  knob,  and  he  had  been  obliged 
to  extricate  it.  He  had  known  her  exactly 
four  hours,  and  although  he  was  unconscious 
of  it,  his  heart  was  being  pulled  along  the 
passage  and  up  the  stairway  at  the  tail-end 
of  that  wisp  of  chiffon,  while  he  listened  to 
her  retreating  foot-steps.  Closing  the  door 
he  came  back  to  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  side. 

"  Her  dress  is  indecorous  for  a  widow," 
said  that  lady  severely. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  see  that,"  replied  Lavendar. 
"  She  is  in  reality  only  a  girl,  and  her  widow 
hood  has  already  lasted  two  years,  you  say." 

"  Once  a  widow  always  a  widow,"  returned 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  sententiously,  with  a  self-re 
specting  glance  at  her  own  cap  and  the  half- 


POINTS   OF  VIEW  IKM, 

dozen  dull  jet  ornaments  she  affected.  Lav- 
endar  laughed  outright,  but  she  rather  liked 
his  laughter  :  it  made  her  think  herself  witty. 
Once  he  had  told  her  she  was  "  delicious," 
and  she  had  never  forgotten  it. 

"  That 's  going  pretty  far,  my  dear  lady," 
he  replied.  "  Not  all  women  are  so  faithful 
to  a  memory  as  you.  I  understand  Americans 
don't  wear  weeds,  and  to  me  her  blue  cape 
is  a  delightful  note  in  the  landscape.  Her 
dresses  are  conventional  and  proper,  and  I 
fancy  she  cannot  express  herself  without  a 
bit  of  colour." 

"  The  object  of  clothing,  Mark,  is  to  cover 
and  to  protect  yourself,  not  to  express  your 
self,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  bitingly. 

"  The  thought  of  wearing  anything  bright 
always  makes  me  shrink,"  remarked  Miss 
Smear  don,  who  had  never  apparently  observed 
the  tip  of  her  own  nose,  "  but  some  per 
sons  are  less  sensitive  on  these  points  than 
others." 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  bowed  an  approving  as- 


102  -KOBINETTA 

sent  to  this.  "  A  widow's  only  concern  should 
be  to  refrain  from  attracting  notice,"  she 
said,  as  though  quoting  from  a  private  book 
of  proverbial  philosophy  soon  to  be  pub 
lished. 

"  Then  Mrs.  Loring  might  as  well  have 
burned  herself  on  her  husband's  funeral  pyre, 
Hindoo  fashion ! "  argued  Lavendar.  "  A 
woman's  life  has  n't  ended  at  two  and 
twenty.  It's  hardly  begun,  and  I  fear  the 
lady  in  question  will  arouse  attention  what 
ever  she  wears." 

"  Would  she  be  called  attractive  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  with  surprise. 

"  Oh,  yes,  without  a  doubt !  " 

"In  gentlemen's  eyes,  I  suppose  you 
mean  ?  "  said  Miss  Smeardon. 

"  Yes,  in  gentlemen's  eyes,"  answered 
Lavendar,  firmly.  "  Those  of  women  are  ap 
parently  furnished  with  different  lenses.  But 
here  comes  the  fair  object  of  our  discussion, 
so  we  must  decide  it  later  on. " 

The  question  of  ancestors,  a  favourite  one 


POINTS   OF  VIEW  103 

at  Stoke  Revel,  came  up  in  the  course  of  the 
next  evening's  conversation,  and  Lavendar 
found  Robinette  a  trifle  flushed  but  smiling 
under  a  double  fire  of  questions  from  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  and  her  companion.  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
was  in  her  usual  chair,  knitting;  Miss 
Smear  don  sat  by  the  table  with  a  piece 
of  fancy-work  ;  Robinette  had  pulled  a 
foot-stool  to  the  hearthrug  and  sat  as  near 
the  flames  as  she  conveniently  could.  She 
shielded  her  face  with  the  last  copy  of 
Punchy  and  let  her  shoulders  bask  in  the 
warmth  of  the  fire,  which  made  flickering 
shadows  on  her  creamy  neck.  Her  white 
skirts  swept  softly  round  her  feet,  and  her 
favourite  turquoise  scarf  made  a  note  of  col 
our  in  her  lap.  She  was  one  of  those  women 
who,  without  positive  beauty,  always  make 
pictures  of  themselves. 

Lavendar  analyzed  her  looks  as  he  joined 
the  circle,  pretending  to  read.  "  She  is  n't 
posing,"  he  thought,  "  but  she  ought  to  be 
painted.  She  ought  always  to  be  painted, 


104  KOBINETTA 

each  time  one  sees  her,  for  everything  about 
her  suggests  a  portrait.  That  blue  ribbon 
in  her  hair  is  fairly  distracting !  What  the 
dickens  is  the  reason  one  wants  to  look  at 
her  all  the  time !  I  've  seen  far  handsomer 
women ! " 

"  Do  you  use  Burke  and  Debrett  in  your 
country,  Mrs.  Loring  ?  "  Miss  Smeardon  was 
enquiring  politely,  as  she  laid  down  one  red 
volume  after  the  other,  having  ascertained 
the  complete  family  tree  of  a  lady  who  had 
called  that  afternoon. 

Robin ette  smiled.  "  I  'm  afraid  we  Ve  no 
thing  but  telephone  or  business  directories, 
social  registers,  and  (  Who 's  Who/  in  Amer 
ica,"  she  said. 

"  You  are  not  interested  in  questions  of 
genealogy,  I  suppose  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
pityingly. 

"  I  can  hardly  say  that.  But  I  think 
perhaps  that  we  are  more  occupied  with  the 
future  than  with  the  past." 

"  That  is  natural,"  assented  the  lady  of  the 


POINTS   OF   VIEW  105 

Manor,  "since  you  have  so  much  more  of 
it,  have  n't  you  ?  But  the  mixture  of  races 
in  your  country/'  she  continued  condescend 
ingly,  "  must  have  made  you  indifferent  to 
purity  of  strain." 

"  I  hope  we  are  not  wholly  indifferent," 
said  Kobinette,  as  though  she  were  stopping 
to  consider.  "  I  think  every  serious-minded 
person  must  be  proud  to  inherit  fine  qualities 
and  to  pass  them  on.  Surely  it  is  n't  enough 
to  give  old  blood  to  the  next  generation  — 
it  must  be  good  blood.  Yes !  the  right  stock 
certainly  means  something  to  an  American." 

"But  if  you've  nothing  that  answers  to 
Burke  and  Debrett,  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
find  out  anybody's  pedigree,"  objected  Miss 
Smeardon.  Then  with  an  air  of  innocent 
curiosity  and  a  glance  supposed  to  be  arch, 
"Are  the  Red  Indians,  the  Negroes,  and  the 
Chinese  in  your  so-called  directories?" 

"  As  many  of  them  as  are  in  business,  or 
have  won  their  way  to  any  position  among 
men  no  doubt  are  there,  I  suppose,"  answered 


106  ROBINETTA 

Robinette  straightforwardly.  "  I  think  we 
just  guess  at  people's  ancestry  by  the  way 
they  look,  act,  and  speak/'  she  continued 
musingly.  "  You  can  e  guess '  quite  well  if 
you  are  clever  at  it.  No  Indians  or  Chinese 
ever  dine  with  me,  Miss  Smeardon,  though 
I  'd  rather  like  a  peaceful  Indian  at  dinner 
for  a  change ;  but  I  expect  he  'd  find  me  very 
dull  and  uneventful !  " 

"  Dull !  —  that  's  a  word  I  very  often  hear 
on  American  lips/'  broke  in  Lavendar  as  he 
looked  over  the  top  of  Henry  Newbolt's 
poems.  "  I  believe  being  dull  is  thought  a 
criminal  offence  in  your  country.  Now, 
is  n't  there  some  danger  involved  in  this 
fear  of  dullness  ?  " 

"  I  should  n't  wonder,"  Robinette  an 
swered  thoughtfully,  looking  into  the  fire. 
"  Yes ;  I  dare  say  there  is,  but  I  'm  afraid 
there  are  social  and  mental  dangers  involved 
in  not  being  afraid  of  it,  too !  "  Her  mis 
chievous  eyes  swept  the  room,  with  Mrs.  de 
Tracy's  solemn  figure  and  Miss  Smeardon's 


POINTS  OF   VIEW  107 

for  its  bright  ornaments.  "  The  moment  a 
person  or  a  nation  allows  itself  to  be  too  dull, 
it  ceases  to  be  quite  alive,  does  n't  it?  But 
as  to  us  Americans,  Mr.  Lavendar,  bear  with 
us  for  a  few  years,  we  are  so  ridiculously 
young !  It  is  our  growing  time,  and  what  you 
want  in  a  young  plant  is  growth,  isn't  it?" 

"  Y-yes/'  Lavendar  replied :  then  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes  he  added:  "Only 
somehow  we  don't  like  to  hear  a  plant  grow ! 
It  should  manage  to  perform  the  operation 
quite  silently,  showing  not  processes  but  re 
sults.  That 's  a  counsel  of  perfection,  per 
haps,  but  don't  slay  me  for  plain-speaking, 
Mrs.  Loring  ! " 

Robinette  laughed.  "  I  '11  never  slay  you 
for  saying  anything  so  wise  and  true  as 
that !  "  she  said,  and  Lavendar,  flushing 
under  her  praise,  was  charmed  with  her  good 
humour. 

"  America  's  a  very  large  country,  is  it 
not?"  enquired  Miss  Smeardon  with  her 
usual  brilliancy.  "  What  is  its  area?  " 


108  KOBINETTA 

"  Bigger  than  England,  but  not  as  big  as 
the  British  Empire ! "  suggested  Carnaby, 
feeling  the  conversation  was  drifting  into 
his  ken. 

"  It  's  just  the  size  of  tlie  moon,  I  've 
heard  !  "  said  Robinette  teasingly.  "  Does 
that  throw  any  light  on  the  question  ?  " 

"  Moonlight !  "  laughed  Carnaby,  much 
pleased  with  his  own  wit.  "  Ha  !  ha !  That  '& 
the  first  joke  I  've  made  this  holidays.  Moon 
light!  Jolly  good!" 

"If  you'd  take  a  joke  a  little  more  in 
your  stride,  my  son,"  said  Lavendar,  "we 
should  be  more  impressed  by  your  mental 
sparkles." 

"Straighten  the  sofa-cushions,  Carnaby," 
said  his  grandmother,  "and  don't  lounge. 
I  missed  the  point  of  your  so-called  joke 
entirely.  As  to  the  size  of  a  country  or  any 
thing  else,  I  have  never  understood  that  it 
affected  its  quality.  In  fruit  or  vegetables, 
for  instance,  it  generally  means  coarseness 
and  indifferent  flavour."  Miss  Smeardon 


POINTS   OF   VIEW  109 

beamed  at  this  palpable  hit,  but  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing  deprived  the  situation  of  its  point  by 
backing  up  Mrs.  de  Tracy  heartily.  She  had 
no  opinion  of  mere  size,  either,  she  declared. 

"You  don't  stand  up  for  your  country 
half  enough,"  objected  Carnaby  to  his  cousin. 
("Why  don't  you  give  the  old  cat  beans?" 
was  his  supplement,  sotto  voce.) 

"  Just  attack  some  of  my  pet  theories  and 
convictions,  Middy  dear,  if  you  wish  to  see 
me  in  a  rage,"  said  Robinette  lightly,  "  but 
my  motto  will  never  be  '  My  country  right  or 
wrong.' ' 

"Nor  mine,"  agreed  Lavendar.  "I'm 
heartily  with  you  there." 

"  It 's  a  great  venture  we  're  trying  in 
America.  I  wish  every  one  would  try  to  look 
at  it  in  that  light,"  said  Robinette  with  a 
slight  flush  of  earnestness. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  venture  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  de  Tracy. 

"  The  experiment  we  're  making  in  democ 
racy,"  answered  Robinette.  "  It 's  fallen  to 


110  KOBINETTA 

us  to  try  it,  for  of  course  it  simply  had  to  be 
tried.  It  is  thrillingly  interesting,  whatever  it 
may  turn  out,  and  I  wish  I  might  live  to  see 
the  end  of  it.  We  are  creating  a  race,  Aunt 
de  Tracy ;  think  of  that !  " 

"  It 's  as  difficult  for  nations  as  for  indi 
viduals  to  hit  the  happy  medium,"  said  Lav- 
endar,  stirring  the  fire.  "  Enterprise  carried 
too  far  becomes  vulgar  hustling,  while  sta 
bility  and  conservatism  often  pass  the  cov 
eted  point  of  repose  and  degenerate  into 
torpor." 

"  This  part  of  England  seems  to  me  singu 
larly  free  from  faults,"  interposed  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  in  didactic  tones.  "  We  have  a  won 
derful  climate ;  more  sunshine  than  in  any 
part  of  the  island,  I  believe.  Our  local  so 
ciety  is  singularly  free  from  scandal.  The 
clergy,  if  not  quite  as  eloquent  or  profound 
as  in  London  (and  in  my  opinion  it  is  the 
better  for  being  neither)  is  strictly  conscien 
tious.  We  have  no  burglars  or  locusts  or 
gnats  or  even  midges,  as  I  'm  told  they  un- 


POINTS   OF  VIEW  111 

fortunately  have  in  Scotland,  and  our  dinner 
parties,  though  quiet  and  dignified,  are  never 
dull  .  .  .  What  is  the  matter,  Robinetta?" 

"A  sudden  catch  in  my  throat,"  said  Rob- 
inette,  struggling  with  some  sort  of  vocal 
difficulty  and  avoiding  Lavendar's  eye. 
"  Thank  you,"  as  he  offered  her  a  glass 
of  water  from  the  punctual  and  strictly  tem 
perate  evening  tray.  "  Don't  look  at  me," 
she  added  under  her  voice. 

"Not  for  a  million  of  money!"  he  whis 
pered.  Then  he  said  aloud:  "If  I  ever  stand 
for  Parliament,  Mrs.  Loring,  I  should  like 
you  to  help  me  with  my  constituency !  " 

The  unruffled  temper  and  sweet  reason 
ableness  of  Robinette's  answers  to  questions 
by  no  means  always  devoid  of  malice,  had 
struck  the  young  man  very  much,  as  he  lis 
tened. 

"She  is  good!"  he  thought  to  himself. 
"  Good  and  sweet  and  generous.  Her  love 
liness  is  not  only  in  her  face ;  it  is  in  her 
heart."  And  some  favorite  lines  began  to 


112  ROBINETTA 

run  in  his  head  that  night,  with  new  con 
viction  :  — 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek, 

Or  a  coral  lip  admires, 
Or  from  star-like  eyes  doth  seek 

Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires,  — 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay, 

So  his  flames  will  waste  away. 

But  a  smooth  and  steadfast  mind, 

Gentle  thoughts  and  calm  desires, 
Hearts  with  equal  love  combined  — 

but  here  Lavendar  broke  off  with  a  laugh. 

"  It 's  not  come  to  that  yet !  "  he  thought. 
"  I  wonder  if  it  ever  will?  " 


Y, 


A    NEW    KINSMAN 


OUNG  Mrs.  Loring  was  making  her  way 
slowly  at  Stoke  Revel  Manor,  and  Mrs.  de 
Tracy,  though  never  affectionate,  treated  her 
with  a  little  less  indifference  as  the  days  went 
on.  "  The  Admiral's  niece  is  a  lady,"  she  ad 
mitted  to  herself  privately ;  "  not  perhaps  the 
highest  type  of  English  lady ;  that,  consider 
ing  her  mixed  ancestry  and  American  edu 
cation,  would  be  too  much  to  expect ;  but  in 
the  broad,  general  meaning  of  the  word,  un 
mistakably  a  lady ! " 

Mrs.  Benson,  though  not  melting  out 
wardly  as  yet,  held  more  lenient  views  still 
with  regard  to  the  American  guest.  Bates, 
the  butler,  was  elderly,  and  severely  Church 
of  England;  his  knowledge  of  widows  was 
confined  to  the  type  ably  represented  by  his 
mistress  and  he  regarded  young  Mrs.  Loring 


114  EOBINETTA 

as  inclined  to  be  "flighty."  The  footman, 
who  was  entirely  under  the  butler's  thumb 
in  mundane  matters,  had  fallen  into  the 
habit  of  sharing  his  opinions,  and  while 
agreeing  in  the  general  feeling  of  flightiness, 
declared  boldly  that  the  lady  in  question 
gave  a  certain  "  style  "  to  the  dinner-table  that 
it  had  lacked  before  her  advent. 

For  a  helpless  victim,  however,  a  slave 
bound  in  fetters  of  steel,  one  would  have  to 
know  Cummins,  the  under  housemaid,  who 
lighted  Mrs.  Loring's  fire  night  and  morning. 
She  was  young,  shy,  country  bred,  and  new  to 
service.  When  Mrs.  Benson  sent  her  to  the 
guest's  room  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning 
after  her  arrival  she  stopped  outside  the  door 
in  a  panic  of  fear. 

"  Come  in ! "  called  a  cheerful  voice. 
"Come  in!" 

Cummins  entered,  bearing  her  box  with 
brush  and  cloth  and  kindlings.  To  her  fur 
ther  embarrassment  Mrs.  Loring  was  sitting 
up  in  bed  with  an  ermine  coat  on,  over  which 


A  NEW   KINSMAN  115 

her  bright  hair  fell  in  picturesque  disorder. 
She  had  brought  the  coat  for  theatre  and 
opera,  but  as  these  attractions  were  lacking 
at  Stoke  Revel  and  as  life  there  was,  to  her, 
one  prolonged  Polar  expedition,  with  dashes 
farthest  north  morning  and  evening,  she  had 
diverted  it  to  practical  uses. 

"  Make  me  a  quick  fire  please,  a  big  fire, 
a  hot  fire,"  she  begged,  "  or  I  shall  be  late 
for  breakfast;  I  never  can  step  into  that  tin 
tub  till  the  ice  is  melted." 

"There's  no  ice  in  it,  ma'am,"  expostu 
lated  Cummins  gently,  with  the  voice  of  a 
wood  dove. 

"You  can't  see  it  because  you're  Eng 
lish,"  said  the  strange  lady,  "  but  I  can  see 
it  and  feel  it.  Oh,  you  make  such  a  good 
fire  !  What  is  your  name,  please?" 

"  Cummins,  ma'am." 

"  There  's  another  Cummins  downstairs, 
but  she  is  tall  and  large.  You  shall  be ( Little 
Cummins/ ' 

Now  every  morning  the  shy  maid  palpi- 


116  ROBINETTA 

tated  outside  the  bedroom  door,  having  given 
her  modest  knock;  palpitated  for  fear  it 
should  be  all  a  dream.  But  no,  it  was  not ! 
there  would  be  a  clear-voiced  "  Come  in  !  " 
and  then,  as  she  entered ;  "  Good  morning, 
Little  Cummins.  I  've  been  longing  for  you 
since  daybreak ! "  A  trifle  later  on  it  was, 
"  Good  Little  Cummins  bearing  coals  of  com- 

o 

fort !  Kind  Little  Cummins,"  and  other 
strange  and  wonderful  terms  of  praise,  until 
Little  Cummins  felt  herself  consumed  by  a 
passion  to  which  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  coals  be 
came  as  less  than  naught  unless  they  could 
be  heaped  on  the  altar  of  the  beloved. 

So  life  went  on  at  Stoke  Revel,  outwardly 
even  and  often  dull,  while  in  reality  many 
subtle  changes  were  taking  place  below  the 
surface;  changes  slight  in  themselves  but 
not  without  meaning. 

Robinette  ran  up  to  her  room  directly 
after  breakfast  one  morning  and  pinned  on 
her  hat  as  she  came  downstairs.  Mark  Lav- 
endar  had  gone  to  London  for  a  few  days, 


A  NEW  KINSMAN  117 

but  even  the  dullness  of  breakfast-table  con 
versation  had  not  robbed  her  of  her  joy  in 
the  early  sunshine,  made  more  cheery  by  the 
prospect  of  a  walk  with  Carnaby,  with  whom 
she  was  now  fast  friends. 

Carnaby  looked  at  her  beamingly  as  they 
stood  together  on  the  steps.  "You're  the 
best  turned-out  woman  of  my  acquaintance," 
he  said  approvingly,  with  a  laughable  strug 
gle  for  the  tone  of  a  middle-aged  man  of  the 
world. 

"How  many  ladies  of  fashion  do  you 
know,  my  child?"  enquired  Robinetta,  pull 
ing  on  her  gloves. 

"  I  see  a  lot  of  'em  off  and  on,"  Carnaby 
answered  somewhat  huffily,  "  and  they  don't 
call  me  a  child  either !  " 

"  Don't  they?  Then  that 's  because  they  're 
timid  and  don't  dare  address  a  future  Ad 
miral  as  Infant-in-Arms  !  Come  on,  Middy 
dear,  let 's  walk." 

Robinette  wore  a  white  serge  dress  and 
jacket,  and  her  hat  was  a  rough  straw  turned 


118  ROBINETTA 

up  saucily  in  two  places  with  black  owls' 
heads.  Mrs.  Benson  and  Little  Cummins  had 
looked  at  it  curiously  while  Robinette  was  at 
breakfast. 

"  'T  is  black  underneath  and  white  on  top, 
Mrs.  Benson.  'Ow  can  that  be?  It  looks  as 
if  one  'at  'ad  been  clapped  on  another ! " 

"That's  what  it  is,  Cummins.  It's  a 
double  hat;  but  they  '11  do  anything  in  Amer 
ica.  It 's  a  double  hat  with  two  black  owls' 
heads,  and  I  '11  wager  they  charged  double 
price  for  it !  " 

"  She 's  a  lovely  beauty  in  anythink  and 
everythink  she  wears,"  said  Little  Cummins 
loyally. 

"  May  I  call  you  <  Cousin  Robin '  ?  "  Car- 
naby  asked  as  they  walked  along.  "  Robin 
ette  is  such  a  long  name." 

"  Cousin  Robin  is  very  nice,  I  think,"  she 
answered.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  ought  to 
be  your  Aunt  Robin ;  it  would  be  much  more 
appropriate." 

"  Aunt  be  blowed  !  "  ejaculated  Carnaby. 


A  NEW   KINSMAN  119 

"  You  're  very  fond  of  making  yourself  out 
old,  but  it 's  no  go  !  When  I  first  heard  you 
were  a  widow  I  thought  you  would  be  grand 
mother's  age,  —  I  say — do  you  think  you 
will  marry  another  time,  Cousin  Robin  ?  " 

"  That 's  a  very  leading  question  for  a 
gentleman  to  put  to  a  lady  !  Were  you  intend 
ing  to  ask  me  to  wait  for  you,  Middy  dear  ?  " 
asked  Kobinette,  putting  her  arm  in  the  boy's 
laughingly,  quite  unconscious  of  his  mood. 

"  I  'd  wait  quick  enough  if  you  'd  let  me  ! 
I  'd  wait  a  lifetime  !  There  never  was  any 
body  like  you  in  the  world  !  " 

The  words  were  said  half  under  the  boy 's 
breath  and  the  emotion  in  his  tone  was  a 
complete  and  disagreeable  surprise.  Here 
was  something  that  must  be  nipped  in  the 
bud,  instantly  and  courageously.  Robinette 
dropped  Carnaby's  arm  and  said:  "We'll 
talk  that  over  at  once,  Middy  dear,  but  first 
you  shall  race  me  to  the  top  of  the  twisting 
path,  down  past  the  tulip  beds,  to  the  seat 
under  the  big  ash  tree.  —  Come  on  !  " 


120  EOBINETTA 

The  two  reached  the  tree  in  a  moment, 
Carnaby  sufficiently  in  advance  to  preserve 
his  self-respect  and  with  a  colour  heightened 
by  something  other  than  the  exercise  of  run 
ning. 

"  Sit  down,  first  cousin  once  removed  ! " 
said  Robinette.  "Do  you  know  the  story  of 
Sydney  Smith,  who  wrote  apologizing  to  some 
body  for  not  being  able  to  come  to  dinner  ? 
'The  house  is  full  of  cousins/  he  said; 
*  would  they  were  "  once  removed  "  ! ' 

"It's  no  good  telling  me  literary  anec 
dotes  !  — You're  not  treating  me  fairly/'  said 
Carnaby  sulkily. 

"I'm  treating  you  exactly  as  you  should 
be  treated,  Infant-in-Arms,"  Robinette  an 
swered  firmly.  "  Give  me  your  two  paws,  and 
look  me  straight  in  the  eye." 

Carnaby  was  no  coward.  His  steel-grey 
eyes  blazed  as  he  met  his  cousin's  look. 
"  Carnaby  dear,  do  you  know  what  you  are 
to  me  ?  You  are  my  kinsman  ;  my  only  male 
relation.  I  'm  so  fond  of  you  already,  don't 


A  NEW  KINSMAN  121 

spoil  it!  Think  what  you  can  be  to  me  if 
you  will.  I  am  all  alone  in  the  world  and 
when  you  grow  a  little  older  how  I  should 
like  to  depend  upon  you  !  I  need  affection ; 
so  do  you,  dear  boy ;  can't  I  see  how  you  are 
just  starving  for  it?  There  is  no  reason  in 
the  world  why  we  should  n't  be  fond  of  each 
other !  Oh !  how  grateful  I  should  be  to 
think  of  a  strong  young  middy  growing  up 
to  advise  me  and  take  me  about !  It  was 
that  kind  of  care  and  thought  of  me  that  was 
in  your  mind  just  now  !  " 

"  You  '11  be  marrying  somebody  one  of 
these  days/'  blurted  Carnaby,  wholly  moved, 
but  only  half  convinced.  "  Then  you  '11  forget 
all  about  your  '  kinsman.' ' 

"I  have  no  intention  in  that  direction," 
said  Robinette,  "  but  if  I  change  my  mind 
I  '11  consult  you  first ;  how  will  that  do  ?  " 

"It  wouldn't  do  any  good,"  sighed  the 
boy,  "so  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't!  You'd 
have  your  own  way  spite  of  everything  a 
fellow  could  say  against  it ! " 


122  ROBINETTA 

There  was  a  moment  of  embarrassment; 
then  the  silence  was  promptly  broken  by 
Robinette. 

"  Well,  Middy  dear,  are  we  the  best  of 
friends  ?  "  she  asked,  rising  from  the  bench 
and  putting  out  her  hand. 

The  lad  took  it  and  said  all  in  a  glow  of 
chivalry,  "You're  the  dearest,  the  best, 
and  the  prettiest  cousin  in  the  world!  You 
don't  mind  my  thinking  you  're  the  pret 
tiest?" 

"Mind  it?  I  delight  in  it !  I  shall  come 
to  your  ship  and  pour  out  tea  for  you  in  my 
most  fetching  frock.  Your  friends  will  say : 
*  Who  is  that  particularly  agreeable  lady,  Car- 
naby?'  And  you,  with  swelling  chest,  will 
respond,  ( That 's  my  American  cousin,  Mrs. 
Loring.  She 's  a  nice  creature ;  I  'm  glad  you 
like  her  ! '  " 

Robinette's  imitation  of  Carnaby 's  possible 
pomposity  was  so  amusing  and  so  clever  that 
it  drew  a  laugh  from  the  boy  in  spite  of  him 
self. 


A  NEW  KINSMAN  123 

"Just  let  anyone  try  to  call  you  a  ' crea 
ture'!"  he  exclaimed.  "He'd  have  me  to 
reckon  with !  Oh !  I  am  so  tired  of  being  a 
boy  !  The  inside  of  me  is  all  grown  up  and 
everybody  keeps  on  looking  at  the  outside 
and  thinking  I  'in  just  the  same  as  I  always 
was!" 

"Dear  old  Middy,  you  're  quite  old  enough 
to  be  my  protector  and  that  is  what  you  shall 
be !  Now  shall  we  go  in  ?  I  want  you  to  stand 
near  by  while  I  ask  your  grandmother  a  fa 


vor." 


"  She  won't  do  it  if  she  can  help  it,"  was 
Carnaby's  succinct  reply. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  sure  !  Where  shall  we  find 
her,  —  in  the  library  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  come  along  !  Get  up  your  circula 
tion  ;  you  '11  need  it !  " 

"Aunt  de  Tracy,  there  is  something  at 
Stoke  Revel  I  am  very  anxious  to  have  if  you 
will  give  it  to  me,"  said  Robinette,as  she  came 
into  the  library  a  few  minutes  later. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  looked  up  from  her  knit- 


124  KOBINETTA 

ting  solemnly.  "  If  it  belongs  to  me,  I  shall 
no  doubt  be  willing,  as  I  know  you  would 
not  ask  for  anything  out  of  the  common ;  but 
I  own  little  here;  nearly  all  is  Carnaby's." 

"  This  was  my  mother's/'  said  Robinette. 
"  It  is  a  picture  hanging  in  the  smoking 
room;  one  that  was  a  great  favorite  of 
hers,  called  '  Robinetta.'  Her  drawing-master 
found  an  Italian  artist  in  London  who  went 
to  the  National  Gallery  and  made  a  copy  of 
the  Sir  Joshua  picture,  and  I  was  named 
after  it." 

"  I  wish  your  mother  could  have  been  a 
little  less  romantic,"  sighed  Mrs.  de  Tracy. 
"  There  were  such  fine  old  family  names  she 
might  have  used:  Marcia  and  Elspeth,  and 
Rosamond  and  Winifred ! " 

"I  am  sorry,  Aunt  de  Tracy.  If  I  had 
been  consulted  I  believe  I  should  have  agreed 
with  you.  Perhaps  when  my  mother  was  in 
America  the  family  ties  were  not  drawn  as 
tightly  as  in  the  former  years?" 

"  If  it  was  so,  it  was  only  natural,"  said  the 


A  NEW   KINSMAN  125 

old  lady.  "  However,  if  you  ask  Carnaby,  and 
if  the  picture  has  no  great  value,  I  am  sure 
he  will  wish  you  to  have  it,  especially  if  you 
know  it  to  have  been  your  mother's  pro 
perty."  Here  Carnaby  sauntered  into  the 
room.  "  That 's  all  right,  grandmother,"  he 
said,  "  I  heard  what  you  were  saying ;  only 
I  wish  it  was  a  real  Sir  Joshua  we  were  giv 
ing  Cousin  Robin  instead  of  a  copy  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  Carnaby  dear,  and  thank  you, 
too,  Aunt  de  Tracy.  You  can't  think  how 
much  it  is  to  me  to  have  this ;  it  is  a  precious 
link  between  mother's  girlhood,  and  mother, 
and  me."  So  saying,  she  dropped  a  timid  kiss 
upon  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  iron-grey  hair,  and 
left  the  room. 

"  If  she  could  live  in  England  long  enough 
to  get  over  that  excessive  freedom  of  manner, 
your  cousin  would  be  quite  a  pleasing  person, 
but  I  am  afraid  it  goes  too  deep  to  be  cured," 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  remarked  as  she  smoothed  the 
hairs  that  might  have  been  ruffled  by  Robin- 
ette's  kiss. 


126  ROBINETTA 

Carnaby  made  no  reply.  He  was  looking 
out  into  the  garden  and  feeling  half  a  boy, 
half  a  man,  but  wholly,  though  not  very  con 
tentedly,  a  kinsman. 


XI 

THE   SANDS    AT    WESTON 


T, 


HURSDAY  morning?  Is  it  possible  that 
this  is  Thursday  morning?  And  I  must 
run  up  to  London  on  Saturday, "  said  Lav- 
endar  to  himself  as  he  finished  dressing  by 
the  open  window.  He  looked  up  the  day 
of  the  week  in  his  calendar  first,  in  order  to 
make  quite  sure  of  the  fact.  Yes,  there  was 
no  doubt  at  all  that  it  was  Thursday.  His 
sense  of  time  must  have  suffered  some  strange 
confusion ;  in  one  way  it  seemed  only  an  hour 
ago  that  he  had  arrived  from  the  clangour 
and  darkness  of  London  to  the  silence  of 
the  country,  the  cuckoos  calling  across  the 
river  between  the  wooded  hills,  and  the  April 
sunshine  on  the  orchard  trees ;  in  another, 
years  might  have  passed  since  the  moment 
when  he  first  saw  Kobinette  Loring  sitting 
under  Mrs.  Prettyman's  plum  tree. 


128  KOBINETTA 

"Eight  days  have  we  spent  together  in 
this  house,  and  yet  since  that  time  when  we 
first  crossed  in  the  boat,  I've  never  been 
more  than  half  an  hour  alone  with  her/' 
he  thought.  "  There  are  only  three  other 
people  in  the  house  after  all,  but  they  seem 
to  have  the  power  of  multiplying  themselves 
like  the  loaves  and  fishes  (only  when  they  're 
not  wanted)  so  that  we're  eternally  in  a 
crowd.  That  boy  particularly  !  I  like  Car- 
naby,  if  he  could  get  it  into  his  thick  head 
that  his  presence  is  n't  always  necessary ;  it 
must  bother  Mrs.  Loring  too ;  he 's  quite  off 
his  head  about  her  if  she  only  knew  it. 
However,  it 's  my  last  day  very  likely,  and 
if  I  have  to  outwit  Machiavelli  I  '11  man 
age  it  somehow !  Surely  one  lame  old  woman, 
and  a  torpid  machine  for  knitting  and  writing 
notes  like  Miss  Smeardon,  can't  want  to  be 
out  of  doors  all  day.  Hang  that  boy,  though ! 
He  '11  come  anywhere."  Here  he  stopped  and 
sat  down  suddenly  at  the  dressing-table, 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands  in  comic 


THE   SANDS   AT   WESTON       129 

despair.  "Mrs.  Loring  can't  like  it !  She  must 
be  doing  it  on  purpose,  avoiding  being  alone 
with  me  because  she  sees  I  admire  her/'  he 
sighed.  "  After  all  why  should  I  ever  suppose 
that  I  interest  her  as  much  as  she  does  me  ?  " 

No  one  could  have  told  from  Lavendar's 
face,  when  he  appeared  fresh  and  smiling  at 
the  breakfast  table  half  an  hour  later,  that  he 
was  hatching  any  deep-laid  schemes. 

Robinette  entered  the  dining  room  five 
minutes  late,  as  usual,  pretty  as  a  pink,  breath 
less  with  hurrying.  She  wore  a  white  dress 
again,  with  one  rose  stuck  at  her  waist 
band,  "  A  little  tribute  from  the  gardener/' 
she  said,  as  she  noticed  Lavendar  glance  at 
it.  She  went  rapidly  around  the  table  shaking 
hands,  and  gave  Carnaby's  red  cheeks  a  pinch 
in  passing  that  made  Lavendar  long  to  tweak 
the  boy's  ear. 

"  Good  morning,  all !  "  she  said  cheerily, 
"  and  how  is  my  first  cousin  once  removed  ? 
Is  he  going  to  Weston  with  me  this  morning 
to  buy  hairpins  ?  " 


130  ROBINETTA 

"  He  is  ! "  Carnaby  answered  joyfully,  be 
tween  mouthfuls  of  bacon  and  eggs.  "He 
has  been  out  of  hairpins  for  a  week." 

"  Does  he  need  tapes  and  buttons  also?  " 
asked  Robinette,  taking  the  piece  of  muffin 
from  his  hand  and  buttering  it  for  herself ; 
an  act  highly  disapproved  of  by  Mrs.  de  Tracy, 
who  hurriedly  requested  Bates  to  pass  the 
bread. 

"  He  needs  everything  you  need,"  Carnaby 
said  with  heightened  colour. 

"  My  hair  is  giving  me  a  good  deal  of  trou 
ble,  lately,"  remarked  Lavendar,  passing  his 
hand  over  a  thickly  thatched  head. 

"I  have  an  excellent  American  tonic  that 
I  will  give  you  after  breakfast,"  said  Robin 
ette  roguishly.  "  You  need  to  apply  it  with  a 
brush  at  ten,  eleven,  and  twelve  o'clock,  sit 
ting  in  the  sun  continuously  between  those 
hours  so  that  the  scalp  may  be  well  invigor 
ated.  Carnaby,  will  you  buy  me  butter  scotch 
and  lemonade  and  oranges  in  Weston  ?  " 

"I  will,  if  Grandmother '11  increase  myal- 


THE   SANDS  AT  WESTON       131 

lowance,"  said  Carnaby  malevolently,  "for  I 
need  every  penny  I  Ve  got  in  hand  for  the 
hairpins." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  hungry,  Robinetta," 
said  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  "  that  you  have  to  buy 
food  in  Weston." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Robinette, "  I  was  only 
longing  to  test  Carnaby's  generosity  and  edu 
cate  him  in  buying  trifles  for  pretty  ladies." 

"  He  can  probably  be  relied  on  to  educate 
himself  in  that  line  when  the  time  comes," 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  remarked ;  "  and  now  if  you 
have  all  finished  talking  about  hair,  I  will 
take  up  my  breakfast  again." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  de  Tracy,  I  am  so  sorry  if  it 
was  n't  a  nice  subject,  but  I  never  thought. 
Anyway  I  only  talked  about  hairpins  ;  it  was 
Mr.  Lavendar  who  introduced  hair  into  the 
conversation  ;  was  n't  it,  Middy  dear?" 

Lavendar  thought  he  could  have  annihi 
lated  them  both  for  their  open  comradeship, 
their  obvious  delight  in  each  other's  society. 
Was  he  to  be  put  on  the  shelf  like  a  dry  old 


132  ROBINETTA 

bachelor?  Not  he  !  He  would  circumvent  them 
in  some  way  or  another,  although  the  role  of 
gooseberry  was  new  to  him. 

The  two  young  people  set  off  in  high 
spirits,  and  Mrs.  de  Tracy  and  Miss  Smeardon 
watched  them  as  they  walked  down  the  ave 
nue  on  their  way  to  the  station,  their  clasped 
hands  swinging  in  a  merry  rhythm  as  they 
hummed  a  bit  of  the  last  popular  song. 

"  I  hope  Robinetta  will  not  Americanize 
Carnaby,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  "  He  seems  so 
foolishly  elated,  so  feverishly  gay  all  at  once. 
Her  manner  is  too  informal;  Carnaby  re 
quires  constant  repression." 

"  Perhaps  his  temperature  has  not  returned 
to  normal  since  his  attack  of  quinsy/'  Miss 
Smeardon  observed,  reassuringly. 

Meanwhile  Lavendar  sat  in  Admiral  de 
Tracy's  old  smoking  room  for  half  an  hour 
writing  letters.  Every  time  that  he  glanced 
up  from  his  work,  and  he  did  so  pretty 
often,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  picture  that  hung 
upon  the  opposite  wall.  It  was  the  copy  of 


THE   SANDS   AT   WESTON       133 

Sir  Joshua's  "Robinetta"  made  long  ago 
and  just  presented  to  its  namesake. 

In  the  portrait  the  girl's  hair  was  a  still 
brighter  gold;  yet  certainly  there  was  a 
likeness  somewhere  about  it,  he  thought; 
partly  in  the  expression,  partly  in  the  broad 
low  forehead,  and  the  eyes  that  looked  as  if 
they  were  seeing  fairies. 

Of  course  to  his  mind  Mrs.  Loring  was  a 
hundred  times  more  lovely  than  Sir  Joshua's 
famous  girl  with  a  robin.  He  felt  very  ill- 
used  because  Robinette  and  Carnaby  had 
deliberately  gone  for  an  excursion  without 
him  and  had  left  him  toiling  over  business  pa 
pers  when  they  had  gone  off  to  enjoy  them 
selves. 

How  bright  it  was  out  there  in  the  sun 
shine,  to  be  sure !  And  why  should  it  be 
Carnaby,  not  he,  who  was  by  this  time  walking 
along  the  sea  front  of  Weston,  and  watching 
the  breeze  flutter  Robinette's  scarf  and  bring 
a  brighter  colour  to  her  lips? 

There !  the  last  words  were  written,  and 


134  KOBINETTA 

taking  up  his  bunch  of  letters,  watch  in 
hand,  he  sought  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  and  ex 
plained  that  he  would  bicycle  to  Weston  and 
catch  the  London  post  himself. 

"I'll  send  William"  —  she  began;  but 
Lavendar  hastily  assured  her  that  he  should 
enjoy  the  ride,  and  hurried  off  in  triumph. 
Miss  Smeardon  smiled  an  acid  smile  as  she 
watched  him  go.  "He  has  forgotten  all 
about  poor  Miss  Meredith,  I  suppose,"  she 
murmured.  "  Yet  it  was  not  so  long  ago  that 
they  were  supposed  to  be  all  in  all  to  each 
other!" 

"  It  was  a  foolish  engagement,  Miss  Smear 
don,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  in  a  cold  voice.  "  I 
never  thought  the  girl  was  suited  to  Mark, 
and  I  understand  that  old  Mr.  Lavendar  was 
relieved  when  the  whole  thing  came  to  an 
end." 

"  Quite  so ;  certainly  ;  no  doubt  Miss  Mere 
dith  would  never  have  made  him  happy," 
said  Miss  Smeardon  at  once,  "  though  it  is 
always  more  agreeable  when  the  lady  dis- 


THE   SANDS   AT  WESTON       135 

covers  the  fact  first.  In  this  case  she  con 
fessed  openly  that  Mr.  Lavendar  broke  her 
heart  with  his  indifference." 

"  She  was  an  ill-bred  young  woman,"  said 
Mrs.  de  Tracy,  as  if  the  subject  were  now 
closed.  "  However,  I  hope  that  the  son  of  my 
family  solicitor  would  think  it  only  proper 
to  pay  a  certain  amount  of  attention  to  the 
Admiral's  niece,  were  she  ever  so  obnoxious 
to  him." 

Miss  Smeardon  made  no  audible  reply, 
but  her  thoughts  were  to  the  effect  that 
never  was  an  obnoxious  duty  performed  by 
any  man  with  a  better  grace. 

The  sea  front  at  Weston  was  the  most 
prosaic  scene  in  the  world,  a  long  espla 
nade  with  an  asphalt  path  running  its  full 
length,  and  ugly  jerrybuilt  houses  glaring 
out  upon  it,  a  gimcrack  pier  with  a  ginger 
bread  sort  of  band-stand  and  glass  house 
at  the  end;  — all  that  could  have  been  done 
to  ruin  nature  had  been  determinedly  done 
there.  But  you  cannot  ruin  a  spring  day, 


136  ROBINETTA 

nor  youth,  nor  the  colour  of  the  sea.  Along 
the  level  shore,  the  placid  waves  swept  and 
broke,  and  then  gathered  up  their  white 
skirts,  and  retreated  to  return  with  the  same 
musical  laugh.  Children  and  dogs  played 
about  on  the  wet  sands.  The  wind  blew 
freshly  and  the  sea  stretched  all  one  pure 
blue,  till  it  met  on  the  horizon  with  the  bluer 
skies. 

Weston  seemed  to  Lavendar  a  very  fresh 
and  delightful  spot  at  that  moment,  al 
though  had  he  been  in  a  different  mood  its 
sordidness  only  would  have  struck  him.  Yes, 
there  they  were  in  the  distance;  he  knew 
Robinette's  white  dress  and  the  figure  of  the 
boy  beside  her.  Hang  that  boy  !  Were  they 
really  going  to  buy  hairpins  ?  If  so,  then  a 
hair-dresser's  he  must  find.  Lavendar  turned 
up  the  little  street  that  led  from  the  sea-front, 
scanning  all  the  signs  —  Boots  —  Dairies  — 
Vegetable  shops  —  Heavens !  were  there  no 
thing  but  vegetable  and  boot  shops  in  Wes 
ton  ?  Boots  again.  At  last  a  Hairdresser ; 


THE   SANDS   AT  WESTON       137 

Lavendar  stood  in  the  doorway  until  he  made 
sure  that  Robinette  and  the  middy  had  turned 
in  that  direction,  and  then  he  boldly  entered 
the  shop. 

To  his  horror  he  found  himself  confronted 
by  a  smiling  young  woman,  whose  own  very 
marvellous  erection  of  hair  made  him  think 
she  must  be  used  as  an  advertisement  for  the 
goods  she  supplied. 

In  another  moment  Robinette  and  the  boy 
would  be  upon  him,  and  he  must  be  found 
deep  in  fictitious  business.  He  cast  one  ago 
nized  glance  at  the  mysteries  of  the  toilet 
that  surrounded  him  on  every  side,  then 
clearing  his  throat,  he  said  modestly  but 
firmly,  that  he  wanted  to  buy  a  pair  of  curl 
ing  tongs  for  a  lady. 

"  These  are  the  thing  if  you  wish  a  Marcel 
wave,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  just  for  an  ordi 
nary  crimp  we  sell  a  good  many  of  the  plain 


ones/' 


"  Yes,  thank  you.   They  will  do  ;  the  lady 
—  my  sister,  also  wished  —  " 


138  ROBINETTA 

"  A  little  (  addition/  was  it,  sir  ?  "  she 
moved  smilingly  to  a  drawer.  "A  few  pin 
curls  are  very  easily  adjusted,  or  would  our 
guinea  switch  —  " 

At  this  moment  the  boy  and  Robinette 
entered  the  shop.  Lavendar  was  paying  for 
the  curling  tongs,  and  not  a  muscle  of  his 
face  relaxed.  "Oh,  here  you  are.  I  have 
just  finished  my  business,"  he  said,  turning 
round,  "I  thought  we  might  encounter  one 
another  somewhere ! " 

Robinette  and  Carnaby  exchanged  know 
ing  glances  of  which  Lavendar  was  perfectly 
conscious,  but  he  stood  by  while  Mrs.  Loring 
bought  her  hairpins,  and  Carnaby  endeav 
oured  to  persuade  her  to  invest  in  a  few  "  pin 
curls."  "  Not  an  hour  before  it  is  absolutely 
necessary,  Middy  dear,"  she  said ;  "  then  I 
shall  bear  it  as  bravely  as  I  can.  Come 
now,  carry  the  hairpins  for  me,  and  let 
me  take  Mr.  Lavendar  out  of  this  shop,  or 
he  will  be  tempted  to  buy  more  than  he 
needs." 


THE   SANDS  AT  WESTON       139 

"Oh,  no!  "  Lavendar  remarked  pointedly. 
"  I  have  what  I  came  for ! " 

"  Don't  forget  your  parcel,"  Carnaby  ex 
claimed,  darting  after  Lavendar  as  they 
went  into  the  street.  "You  've  left  it  on 
the  counter." 

"How  careless!  "  said  Mark.  "It  was  for 
my  sister." 

"  You  never  told  me  you  had  a  sister,"  said 
Eobinette,  as  they  walked  together,  Lavendar 
wheeling  his  bicycle  and  Carnaby  sulking 
behind  them. 

"  I  am  blessed  with  two ;  one  married  now ; 
the  other,  my  sister  Amy,  lives  at  home." 

"  Well,  you  see,  in  spite  of  all  our  ques 
tions  the  first  time  we  met,  we  really  know 
very  little  about  each  other,"  she  went  on 
lightly.  "  It  takes  such  a  long  time  to  get 
thoroughly  acquainted  in  this  country.  Do 
they  ever  count  you  a  friend  if  you  do  not 
know  all  their  aunts  and  second  cousins  ?  " 

Lavendar  laughed.  "  Willingly  would  I 
introduce  you  to  my  aunts  and  my  uttermost 


140  ROBINETTA 

cousins,  and  lay  the  map  of  my  life  before 
you,  uneventful  as  it  has  been,  if  that  would 
further  our  acquaintance." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  hateful  memory  darted 
into  his  thoughts,  and  he  reddened  to  his 
temples,  until  Mrs.  Loring  wondered  if  she 
had  said  anything  to  annoy  him. 

Some  fortunate  accident  at  this  point  or 
dered  that  Carnaby  should  meet  a  friend, 
another  middy  about  his  own  age,  and  they  set 
off  together  in  quest  of  a  third  boy  who  was 
supposed  to  be  in  the  near  neighbourhood. 

As  soon  as  the  lads  were  out  of  sight 
Lavendar  found  the  jests  they  had  been 
bandying  together  die  on  his  lips.  "  I  'm  go 
ing  down  deeper ;  I  shall  be  out  of  my  depth 
very  soon,"  he  thought  to  himself,  as  he 
walked  in  silence  by  Robinette's  side. 

"  Let  us  come  down  to  the  beach  again ; 
we  can't  go  to  the  station  for  half  an  hour 
yet/'  she  said.  "  I  like  to  look  out  to  sea,  and 
realize  that  if  I  sailed  long  enough  I  could 
step  off  that  pier,  and  arrive  in  America." 


THE   SANDS   AT   WESTON       141 

They  stood  by  the  sea-wall  together  with 
the  fresh  wind  playing  on  their  faces.  "  Is  n't 
it  curious,"  said  Robinette,  "how  instinct 
ively  one  always  turns  to  look  at  the  sea ; 
inland  may  be  ever  so  lovely,  but  if  the  sea 
is  there  we  generally  look  in  that  direction." 

"Because  it  is  unbounded,  like  the  fu 
ture,"  said  Lavendar.  He  was  looking  as  he 
spoke  at  some  children  playing  on  the  sands 
just  beside  them.  There  was  a  gallant  little 
boy  among  them  with  a  bare  curly  head,  who 
refused  help  from  older  sisters  and  was  toiling 
away  at  his  sand  castle,  his  whole  soul  in  his 
work  ;  throwing  up  spadefuls  —  tremendous 
ones  for  four  years  old  —  upon  its  ramparts, 
as  if  certain  they  could  resist  the  advancing 
tide. 

"  What  a  noble  little  fellow  !  "  exclaimed 
Robinette,  catching  the  direction  of  Laven- 
dar's  glance.  "  Is  n't  he  splendid  ?  toiling  like 
that;  stumping  about  on  those  fat  brown 
legs!" 

"  How  beautiful  to  have  a  child  like  that,  of 


142  ROBINETTA 

one's  own  !  "  thought  Lavendar  as  he  looked. 
On  the  sands  around  them,  there  were  num 
bers  of  such  children  playing  there  in  the  sun. 
It  seemed  a  happy  world  to  him  at  the  mo 
ment. 

Suddenly  he  saw  his  companion  turn 
quickly  aside ;  a  nurse  in  uniform  came  to 
wards  them  pushing,  not  a  happy  crooning 
bahy  this  time,  but  a  little  emaciated  wisp  of 
a  child  lying  back  wearily  in  a  wheel  chair. 
Something  in  Robinetjfce's  face,  or  perhaps 
the  bit  of  fluttering  lace  she  wore  upon  her 
white  dress,  had  attracted  its  notice,  and  it 
stretched  out  two  tiny  skeleton  hands  to 
wards  her  as  it  passed.  With  a  quick  gesture, 
brushing  tears  away  that  in  a  moment  had 
rushed  to  her  eyes,  young  Mrs.  Loring  stepped 
forward,  and  put  her  fingers  into  the  wasted 
hands  that  were  held  out  to  her.  She  hung 
above  the  child  for  a  moment,  a  radiant 
figure,  her  face  shining  with  sympathy  and 
a  sort  of  heavenly  kindness;  her  eyes  the 
sweeter  for  their  tears. 


THE   SANDS  AT  WESTON       143 

"  What  is  it,  darling  ?  "  she  asked.  «  Oh, 
it 's  the  bright  rose  !  "  Then  she  hurriedly 
unfastened  the  flower  from  her  waist-belt 
and  turned  to  Lavendar.  "  Will  you  please 
take  your  penknife  and  scrape  away  all  the 
little  thorns,"  she  asked. 

"The  rose  looked  very  charming  where  it 
was,"  he  remarked,  half  regretfully,  as  he  did 
what  she  commanded. 

"  It  will  look  better  still,  presently,"  she 
answered. 

The  child's  hands  were  outstretched  long 
ingly  to  grasp  the  flower,  its  eyes,  unnatu 
rally  deep  and  wise  with  pain,  were  fixed  upon 
Robinette's  face.  She  bent  over  the  chair, 
and  her  voice  was  like  a  dove's  voice,  Laven 
dar  thought,  as  she  spoke.  Then  the  little  mel 
ancholy  carriage  was  wheeled  away.  Mother 
hood  always  seemed  the  most  sacred,  the  su 
preme  experience  to  Robinette  ;  a  thing  high 
and  beautiful  like  the  topmost  blooms  of 
Nurse  Prettyman's  plum  tree.  "  If  one  had 
to  choose  between  that  sturdy  boy  and  this 


144  KOBINETTA 

wistful  wraith,  it  would  be  hard,"  she  thought. 
"  All  my  pride  would  run  out  to  the  boy.  but 
I  could  die  for  love  and  pity  if  this  suffering 
baby  were  mine  !  " 

Lavendar  had  turned,  and  leaned  on  the 
wall  with  averted  face.  "  Sweet  woman ! "  he 
was  saying  to  himself.  "It  is  more  than  a 
merry  heart  that  is  able  to  give  such  sym 
pathy  ;  it 's  a  sad  old  world  after  all  where 
such  things  can  be ;  but  a  woman  like  that 
can  bring  good  out  of  evil." 

Kobinette  had  seated  herself  on  a  low  wall 
beside  him.  Her  little  embroidered  futility  of 
a  handkerchief  was  in  her  hand  once  more. 
"  A  rose  and  a  smile  !  that 's  all  we  could  give 
it,"  she  said ;  "  and  we  would  either  of  us  share 
some  of  that  burden  if  we  only  could."  She 
watched  the  merry,  healthy  children  playing 
beside  them,  and  added,  "  After  all  let  us 
comfort  ourselves  that  brown  cheeks  and  fat 
legs  are  in  the  majority.  Rightness  somehow 
or  other  must  be  at  the  root  of  things,  or  we 
shouldn't  be  a  living  world  at  all." 


THE   SANDS  AT'  WESTON       145 

"  Amen/*  said  Lavendar,  "  but  the  sight  of 
suffering  innocents  like  that,  sometimes  makes 
me  wish  I  were  dead." 

"  Dead ! "  she  echoed.  "  Why,  it  makes  me 
wish  for  a  hundred  lives,  a  hundred  hearts 
and  hands  to  feel  with  and  help  with." 

"  Ah,  some  women  are  made  that  way. 
My  stepmother,  the  only  mother  I  've  known, 
was  like  that,"  Lavendar  went  on,  dropping 
suddenly  again  into  personal  talk,  as  they 
had  done  before.  He  and  she,  it  seemed, 
could  not  keep  barriers  between  them  very 
long  ;  every  hour  they  spent  together  brought 
them  more  strangely  into  knowledge  of  each 
other's  past. 

"She  was  a  fine  woman,"  he  went  on, 
"with  a  certain  comfortable  breadth  about 
her,  of  mind  and  body;  and  those  large, 
warm,  capable  hands  that  seem  so  fitted 
to  lift  burdens." 

Lavendar  was  in  an  absent-minded  mood, 
and  never  much  given  to  noting  details  at 
any  time.  He  bent  over  on  the  low  wall  in 


146  ROBINETTA 

retrospective  silence,  looking  at  the  blue  sea 
before  them. 

Kobinette,  who  was  perched  beside  him, 
spread  her  two  small  hands  on  her  white  serge 
knees  and  regarded  them  fixedly  for  a  moment. 
."I  wonder  if  it's  a  matter  of  size,"  she 
said  after  a  moment.  "  I  wonder  !  Let 's  be 
confidential.  When  I  was  a  little  girl  we 
were  not  at  all  well-to-do,  and  my  hands 
were  very  busy.  My  father's  success  came 
to  him  only  two  or  three  years  before  his 
death,  when  his  reputation  began  to  grow 
and  his  plans  for  great  public  buildings 
began  to  be  accepted,  so  I  was  my  mother's 
helper.  We  had  but  one  servant,  and  I 
learned  to  make  beds,  to  dust,  to  wipe 
dishes,  to  make  tea  and  coffee,  and  to  cook 
simple  dishes.  If  Admiral  de  Tracy's  sister 
had  to  work,  Admiral  de  Tracy's  niece  was 
certainly  going  to  help !  Later  on  came  my 
father's  illness  and  death.  We  had  plenty  of 
servants  then,  but  my  hands  had  learned  to 
be  busy.  I  gave  him  his  medicines,  I  changed 


THE   SANDS   AT   WESTON       147 

his  pillows,  I  opened  his  letters  and  answered 
such  of  them  as  were  within  my  powers,  I 
fanned  him,  I  stroked  his  aching  head.  The 
end  came,  and  mother  and  I  had  hardly  be 
gun  to  take  hold  of  life  again  when  her  health 
failed.  I  was  n't  enough  for  her  ;  she  needed 
father  and  her  face  was  bent  towards  him. 
My  hands  were  busy  again  for  months,  and 
they  held  my  mother's  when  she  died.  Time 
went  on.  Then  I  began  again  to  make  a  home 
out  of  a  house ;  to  use  my  strength  and  time 
as  a  good  wife  should,  for  the  comfort  of 
her  husband ;  but  oh !  so  faultily,  for  I  was 
all  too  young  and  inexperienced.  It  was  only 
for  a  few  months,  then  death  came  into  my 
life  for  the  third  time,  and  I  was  less  than 
twenty.  For  the  first  time  since  I  can  remem 
ber,  my  hands  are  idle,  but  it  will  not  be  for 
long.  I  want  them  to  be  busy  always.  I  want 
them  to  be  full !  I  want  them  to  be  tired ! 
I  want  them  ready  to  do  the  tasks  my  head 
and  heart  suggest." 

Lavendar  had  a  strong  desire  to  take  those 


148  KOBINETTA 

same  hands  in  his  and  kiss  them,  but  instead 
he  rose  and  spread  out  his  own  long  brown 
fingers  on  the  edge  of  the  wall,  a  man's 
hands,  fine  and  supple,  but  meant  to  work. 

"  I  seem  to  have  done  nothing,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  You  look  so  young,  so  irresponsi 
ble,  so  like  a  bird  on  a  bough,  that  I  cannot 
associate  ,dull  care  with  you,  yet  you  have 
lived  more  deeply  than  I.  Life  seems  to  have 
touched  me  on  the  shoulder  and  passed  me 
by ;  these  hands  of  mine  have  never  done  a 
real  day's  work,  Mrs.  Loring,  for  they've 
been  the  servants  of  an  unwilling  brain.  I 
hated  my  own  work  as  a  younger  man,  and, 
though  I  hope  I  did  not  shirk  it,  I  certainly 
did  nothing  that  I  could  avoid."  He  paused, 
and  went  on  slowly,  "  I  've  thought  sometimes, 
of  late  I  mean,  that  if  life  is  to  be  worth  much, 
if  it  is  to  be  real  life,  and  not  mere  existence, 
one  must  put  one's  whole  heart  into  it,  and 
that  two  people — "  He  stopped;  he  was 
silent  with  embarrassment,  conscious  of  hav 
ing  said  too  much. 


THE   SANDS  AT  WESTON       149 

"  Can  help  each  other.  Indeed  they  can," 
Mrs.  Loring  went  on  serenely,  "  if  they  have 
the  same  ideals.  Hardly  anyone,  fortunately, 
is  so  alone  as  I,  and  so  I  have  to  help  my 
self  !  Your  sisters,  now ;  don't  they  help  ?  " 

"  Not  a  great  deal,"  Lavendar  confessed. 
"  One  would,  but  she 's  married  and  in  India, 
worse  luck  !  The  other  is  —  well,  she 's  a 
candid  sister."  He  laughed,  and  looked  up. 
"  If  my  best  friend  could  hear  my  sister 
Amy's  view  of  me,  just  have  a  little  sketch 
of  me  by  Amy  without  fear  or  favour,  he, 
or  she,  would  never  have  a  very  high  opinion 
of  me  again,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  I 
should  aoree  with  her." 

o 

"  Nonsense  !  my  dear  friend,"  exclaimed 
Robinette  in  a  maternal  tone  she  sometimes 
affected,  - —  a  tone  fairly  agonizing  to  Mark 
Lavendar ;  "  we  should  never  belittle  the 
stuff  that 's  been  put  into  us  !  My  equipment 
is  n't  particularly  large,  but  I  am  going  to 
squeeze  every  ounce  of  power  from  it  before 
I  die." 


150  KOBINETTA 

"  Life  is  extraordinarily  interesting  to  you, 
is  n't  it?" 

"  Interesting  ?  It  is  thrilling !  So  will  it 
be  to  you  when  you  make  up  your  mind  to 
squeeze  it,"  said  Robinette,  jumping  off  the 
wall.  " There  is  Carnaby  signalling;  it  is 
time  we  went  to  the  station." 

"  Life  would  thrill  me  considerably  more 
if  Carnaby  were  not  eternally  in  evidence," 
said  Lavendar,  but  Robinette  pretended  not 
to  hear. 


T, 


XII 

LOVE   IN   THE    MUD 


HE  next  day  Robinette  was  once  more 
sitting  in  the  boat  opposite  to  Lavendar  as  he 
rowed.  They  were  going  down  the  river  this 
time,  not  across  it.  Somehow  they  had  man 
aged  that  afternoon  to  get  out  by  themselves, 
which  sounds  very  simple,  but  is  a  wonder 
fully  difficult  thing  to  accomplish  when  there 
is  no  special  reason  for  it,  and  when  there 
are  several  other  people  in  the  house. 

Fortunately  Mrs.  de  Tracy  did  not  like  to 
be  alone,  so  that  wherever  she  went  Miss 
Smeardon  had  to  go  too,  and  there  happened 
to  be  a  sale  of  work  at  a  neighbouring  vic 
arage  that  afternoon  where  she  considered 
her  presence  -a  necessity.  Robinette  had  van 
ished  soon  after  luncheon  and  the  middy  had 
been  dull,  so  after  loitering  around  for  a 
while,  he  too  had  disappeared  upon  some  er- 


152  KOBINETTA 

rand  of  his  own.  Lavendar  walked  very  slowly 
toward  the  avenue  gateway,  then  he  turned 
and  came  back.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his 
good  fortune  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Loring  come 
out  of  the  house,  and  pause  at  the  door  as  if 
uncertain  of  her  next  movements.  She  looked 
uncommonly  lovely  in  a  white  frock  with 
touches  of  blue,  while  the  ribbon  in  her  hair 
brought  out  all  its  gold.  She  wore  a  flowery 
garden  hat,  and  a  pair  of  dainty  most  un-Eng 
lish  shoes  peeped  from  beneath  her  short  skirt. 

"  Are  you  going  out,  or  can  I  take  you 
on  the  river?  "  Lavendar  asked,  trying  without 
much  success  to  conceal  the  eagerness  that 
showed  in  his  voice  and  eyes. 

Robinette  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at 
him  (it  seemed  as  if  she  read  him  like  a  book) 
and  then  she  said  frankly,  "  Why  yes,  there  is 
nothing  I  should  like  so  much,  but  where  is 
Carnaby?" 

"  Hang  Carnaby !  I  mean  I  don't  know, 
or  care.  I  've  had  too  much  of  his  society 
to-day  to  be  pining  for  it  now." 


LOVE   IN   THE   MUD  153 

"  Well,  he  does  chatter  like  a  magpie,  but 
I  feel  he  must  have  such  a  dull  time  here 
with  no  one  anywhere  near  his  own  age. 
Elderly  as  I  am,  I  seem  a  bit  nearer  than 
Aunt  de  Tracy  or  Miss  Smeardon.  Aunt  de 
Tracy,  all  the  same,  will  never  understand 
my  relations  with  that  boy,  or  with  anyone 
else  for  that  matter.  I  did  try  so  hard," 
she  went  on,  "when  I  first  arrived,  just 
to  strike  the  right  note  with  her,  and  I  Ve 
missed  it  all  the  time,  by  that  very  fact, 
no  doubt.  I  'm  so  unused  to  trying  —  at 
home." 

"  You  mean  in  America  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  I  don't  try  there  at  all, 
and  yet  my  friends  seem  to  understand  me." 

"  Does  it  seem  to  you  that  you  could  ever 
call  England  < home'?" 

"  I  could  not  have  believed  that  England 
would  so  sink  into  my  heart,"  she  said, 
sitting  down  in  the  doorway  and  arranging 
the  flowers  on  her  hat.  "  During  those  first 
dull  wet  days  when  I  was  still  a  stranger, 


154  ROBINETTA 

and  when  I  looked  out  all  the  time  at  the 
dripping  cedars,  and  felt  whenever  I  opened 
my  lips  that  I  said  the  wrong  thing,  it 
seemed  to  me  I  should  never  be  gay  for  an 
hour  in  this  country ;  but  the  last  enchant 
ing  sunny  days  have  changed  all  that.  I 
remember  it 's  my  mother's  country,  and  if 
only  I  could  have  found  a  little  affection 
waiting  for  me,  all  would  have  been  per 
fect." 

"  You  may  find  it  yet."  Lavendar  could 
not  for  the  life  of  him  help  saying  the  words, 
but  there  was  nothing  in  the  tone  in  which 
he  said  them  to  make  Robinette  conscious  of 
his  meaning. 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  she  sighed,  thinking  of 
Mrs.  de  Tracy's  indifference.  "  I  'm  much 
more  American  than  English,  much  more  my 
father's  daughter  than  the  Admiral's  niece ; 
perhaps  my  aunt  feels  that  instinctively. 
Now  I  must  slip  upstairs  and  change  if  we 
are  going  boating." 

"  Never  ! "  cried  Lavendar.    "  If  I  don't 


LOVE   IN  THE   MUD  155 

snatch  you  this  moment  from  the  devouring 
crowd  I  shall  lose  you!  I  will  keep  you 
safe  and  dry,  never  fear,  and  we  shall  be 
back  well  before  dark." 

They  went  down  the  river  after  leaving 
the  little  pier,  passing  the  orchards  heaped 
on  the  hillsides  above  Wittisham,  and  Lav- 
endar  wanted  to  row  out  to  sea,  but  Robinette 
preferred  the  river;  so  he  rowed  nearer  to 
the  shore,  where  the  current  was  less  swift, 
and  the  boat  rocked  and  drifted  with  scarcely 
a  touch  of  the  oars.  They  had  talked  for 
some  time,  and  then  a  silence  had  fallen, 
which  Robinette  broke  by  saying,  "I  half 
wish  you'd  forsake  the  law  and  follow  lines 
of  lesser  resistance,  Mr.  Lavendar.  Do  you 
know,  you  seem  to  me  to  be  drifting,  not 
rowing !  I  Ve  been  thinking  ever  since  of 
what  you  said  to  me  on  the  sands  at  Weston." 

"  Ungrateful  woman ! "  he  exclaimed, 
trying  to  evade  the  subject,  "when  these 
two  faithful  arms  have  been  at  your  service 
every  day  since  we  first  met !  Think  of  the 


156  KOBINETTA 

pennies  you  would  have  taken  from  that  tiny 
gold  purse  of  yours  for  the  public  ferry! 
However,  I  know  what  you  mean ;  I  never 
met  anyone  so  plain-spoken  as  you,  Mrs. 
Kobin;  I  have  n't  forgotten,  I  assure  you  !  " 

"How  about  the  candid  sister?  Isn't  she 
plain-spoken  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  attacks  the  outside  of  the  cup 
and  platter ;  you  question  motive  power  and 
ideals.  Well,  I  confess  I  have  less  of  the  for 
mer  than  I  ought,  and  more  of  the  latter  than 
I've  ever  used."  Lavendar  had  rested  on  his 
oars  now  and  was  looking  down,  so  that  the 
twinkle  of  his  eyes  was  lost.  "  I  suppose  I 
shall  go  on  as  I  have  done  hitherto,  doing 
my  work  in  a  sort  of  a  way,  and  getting  a 
certain  amount  of  pleasure  out  of  things, — 
unless  —  " 

"Oh,  but  that's  not  living!"  she  ex 
claimed  ;  "  that 's  only  existing.  Don't  you 
remember :  — 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk  doth  make  man  better  be. 


LOVE   IN   THE   MUD  157 

It's  really  living  I  mean,  forgetting  the 
things  that  are  behind,  and  going  on  and 
on  to  something  ahead,  whatever  one's  aim 
may  be." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself, 
if  I  may  ask  ?  "  said  Lavendar.  "  Don't  be 
too  philanthropic,  will  you  ?  You  're  so  de 
lightfully  symmetrical  now  !  " 

"I  shall  have  plenty  to  do,"  cried  Robin- 
ette  ardently.  "  I  've  told  you  before,  I  have 
so  much  motive  power  that  I  don't  know  how 
to  use  it." 

"  How  about  sharing  a  little  of  it  with  a 
friend ! " 

Lavendar's  voice  was  full  of  meaning,  but 
Robinette  refused  to  hear  it.  She  had  suc 
cumbed  as  quickly  to  his  charm  as  he  to  hers, 
but  while  she  still  had  command  over  her 
heart  she  did  not  intend  parting  with  it  unless 
she  could  give  it  wholly.  She  knew  enough  of 
her  own  nature  to  recognize  that  she  longed 
for  a  rowing,  not  a  drifting  mate,  and  that 
nothing  else  would  content  her ;  but  her  in- 


158  EOBINETTA 

stinct  urged  that  Lavendar's  indecisions  and 
his  uncertainties  of  aim  were  accidents  rather 
than  temperamental  weaknesses.  She  sus 
pected  that  his  introspective  moods  and  his 
occasional  lack  of  spirits  had  a  definite  cause 
unknown  to  her. 

"  I  haven't  a  large  income,"  she  said,  after 
a  moment's  silence,  changing  the  subject 
arbitrarily,  and  thereby  reducing  her  compan 
ion  to  a  temporary  state  of  silent  rage. 

"Yet  no  one  would  expect  a  woman  like 
this  to  fall  like  a  ripe  plum  into  a  man's 
mouth,"  bethought  presently ;  "  she  will  drop 
only  when  she  has  quite  made  up  her  mind, 
and  the  bough  will  need  a  good  deal  of  shak- 
ing!" 

"  I  have  n't  a  large  income,"  repeated  Rob- 
inette,  while  Lavendar  was  silent,  "  only  five 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  which  is  of  course  mi 
croscopic  from  the  American  standpoint  and 
cost  of  living ;  so  I  can't  build  free  libraries 
and  swimming  baths  and  playgrounds,  or  do 
any  big  splendid  things ;  but  I  can  do  dear 


LOVE  IN  THE  MUD  159 

little  nice  ones,  left  undone  by  city  govern 
ments  and  by  the  millionaires.  I  can  sing, 
and  read,  and  study ;  I  can  travel ;  and  there 
are  always  people  needing  something  wher 
ever  you  are,  if  you  have  eyes  to  see  them  ; 
one  need  n't  live  a  useless  life  even  if  one 
has  n't  any  responsibilities.  But  "  —  she 
paused — "I've  been  talking  all  this  time 
about  my  own  plans  and  ambitions,  and  I 
began  by  asking  yours  !  Is  n't  it  strange  that 
the  moment  one  feels  conscious  of  friend 
ship,  one  begins  to  want  to  know  things  ?  " 

"  My  sister  Amy  would  tell  you  I  had  no 
ambitions,  except  to  buy  as  many  books  as  I 
wish,  and  not  to  have  to  work  too  hard/'  said 
Mark  smiling,  "  but  I  think  that  would  not 
be  quite  true.  I  have  some,  of  a  dull  inferior 
kind,  not  beautiful  ones  like  yours." 

"  Do  tell  me  what  they  are." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  could  n't ;  they  're 
not  for  show ;  shabby  things  like  unsuccess 
ful  poor  relations,  who  would  rather  not  have 
too  much  notice  taken  of  them.  In  a  few 


160  KOBINfflTA 

weeks  I  am  going  to  drag  them  out  of  their 
retreat,  brighten  them  up,  inject  some  poetry 
into  their  veins,  and  then  display  them  to  your 
critical  judgment." 

They  were  almost  at  a  standstill  now  and 
neither  of  them  was  noticing  it  at  all.  As 
Mrs.  Loririg  moved  her  seat  the  boat  lurched 
somewhat  to  one  side.  Mark,  to  steady  her, 
placed  his  hand  over  hers  as  it  rested  on  the 
rail,  and  she  did  not  withdraw  it.  Then  he 
found  the  other  hand  that  lay  upon  her  knee, 
and  took  it  in  his  own,  scarcely  knowing 
what  he  did.  He  looked  into  her  face  and 
found  no  anger  there.  "  I  wish  to  tell  you 
more  about  myself,"  he  stammered,  "  some 
thing  not  altogether  creditable  to  me ;  but 
perhaps  you  will  understand.  Perhaps  even 
if  you  don't  understand  you  will  forgive." 

She  drew  her  hands  gently  away  from  his 
grasp.  "  I  shall  try  to  understand,  you  may 
rely  on  that !  "  she  said. 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  trouble  you  with  any 
very  dreadful  confessions,"  he  said,  "only 


LOVE   IN  THE   MUD  161 

it's  better  to  hear  things  directly  from  the 
people  concerned,  and  you  are  sure  to  hear 
a  wrong  version  sooner  or  later." — Then 
stopping  suddenly  he  exclaimed,  "  Hullo ! 
we're  stuck,  I  declare  !  look  at  that !  " 

Eobinette  turned  and  saw  that  their  boat 
was  now  scarcely  surrounded  with  water  at 
all.  On  every  side,  as  if  the  flanks  of  some 
great  whale  were  upheaving  from  below,  there 
appeared  stretches  of  glistening  mud.  Just 
in  front  of  them,  where  there  still  was  a  chan 
nel  of  water,  was  an  upstanding  rock.  "  Shall 
we  row  quickly  there  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Then 
perhaps  we  can  get  out  and  pull  the  boat  to 
the  other  side,  where  there  is  more  water. 
What  has  happened?" 

"  Oh,  something  not  unusual,"  said  Lav- 
endar  grimly,  "  that  I  'm  a  fool,  and  the  sea- 
tide  has  ebbed,  as  tides  have  been  known 
to  do  before.  I  'm  afraid  a  man  does  n't  watch 
tides  when  he  has  a  companion  like  you ! 
Now  we  're  left  high,  but  not  at  all  dry,  as 
you  see,  till  the  tide  turns." 


162  ROBINETTA 

By  a  swift  stroke  or  two  he  managed  to  pro 
pel  their  craft  as  far  as  the  rock.  They  scram 
bled  up  on  it,  and  then  he  tried  to  haul  the 
boat  around  the  miniature  islet;  but  the 
more  he  hauled,  the  quicker  the  water  seemed 
to  run  away,  and  the  deeper  the  wretched 
thing  stuck  in  the  mud.  He  jumped  in  again, 
and  made  an  effort  to  push  her  off  with  an 
oar ;  meanwhile  Robinette  nearly  fell  off  the 
rock  in  her  efforts  to  get  the  head  of  the 
boat  around  towards  the  current  again,  and 
making  a  frantic  plunge  into  the  ooze,  sank 
above  her  ankles  in  an  instant.  Lavendar 
caught  hold  of  her  and  helped  her  to  scram 
ble  back  into  the  boat.  "  It's  all  right ;  only 
my  skirt  wet,  and  one  shoe  gone!"  she 
panted.  "  Now,  what  are  we  to  do  ? "  She 
spread  out  her  hands  in  dismay,  and  looked 
down  at  her  draggled  mud-stained  skirt,  her 
little  feet,  one  shoeless  and  both  covered 
with  mud  and  slime.  "  What  an  object  I 
shall  be  to  meet  Aunt  de  Tracy's  eye,  when, 
if  ever,  it  does  light  on  me  again !  Mean- 


LOVE  IN  THE  MUD  163 

while  it  seems  as  if  we  might  be  here  for 
some  hours.  The  boat  is  just  settling  herself 
into  the  mud  bank,  like  a  rather  tired  fat 
old  woman  into  an  armchair,  and  pray,  Mr. 
Lavendar,  what  do  you  propose  to  do?  as 
Talleyrand  said  to  the  lady  who  told  him  she 
could  n't  bear  it." 

Lavendar  looked  about  them ;  the  main  bed 
of  the  river  was  fifty  yards  away ;  between 
it  and  them  was  now  only  an  expanse  of  mud. 

"It's  perfectly  hopeless,"  he  said,  "the 
best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  beget  some  phi 
losophy." 

"  Which  at  any  moment  we  would  ex 
change  for  a  foot  of  water,"  she  interpo 
lated. 

"  We  must  just  sit  here  and  wait  for  the 
tide.  Shall  it  be  in  the  boat  or  on  the  rock  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  much  difference,  do  you  ?  Ex 
cept  that  the  passing  boats,  if  there  are  any, 
might  think  it  was  a  matter  of  choice  to  sit  on 
a  damp  rock  for  two  hours,  but  no  one  could 
think  we  wanted  to  sit  in  a  boat  in  the  mud." 


164  EOBINETTA 

They  landed  on  the  rock  for  the  second 
time.  "For  my  part  it's  no  great  punish 
ment/'  said  Lavendar,  when  they  settled 
themselves,  "  since  the  place  is  big  enough 
for  two  and  you  're  one  of  them !  " 

"  Wouldn't  this  be  as  good  a  stool  of  repen 
tance  from  which  to  confess  your  faults  as 
any  ? "  asked  Robinette,  as  she  tucked  her 
shoeless  foot  beneath  her  mud-stained  skirt 
and  made  herself  as  comfortable  as  possible. 
"  I  '11  even  offer  a  return  of  confidence  upon 
my  own  weaknesses,  if  I  can  find  them,  but 
at  present  only  miles  of  virtue  stretch  be 
hind  me.  Ugh  !  How  the  mud  smells ;  quite 
penitential !  Now  :  — 

"  What  Lave  you  sought  you  should  have  shunned, 
And  into  what  new  follies  run  ?  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  bad  rhyme ! "  said  Lavendar. 

"  It 's  Pythagoras,  any  way,"  she  explained. 

Then  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  Lav 
endar  went  on.  "  This  is  not  merely  a  jest, 
Mrs.  Loring.  Before  you  admit  me  really 
amongst  the  number  of  your  friends  I  should 


LOVE   IN  THE  MUD  165 

like  you  to  know  that  —  to  put  it  plainly 
— my  own  little  world  would  tell  you  at  the 
moment  that  I  am  a  heartless  jilt." 

"  That  is  a  very  ugly  expression,  Mr. 
Lavendar,  and  I  shall  choose  not  to  believe 
it,  until  you  give  me  your  own  version  of 
the  story." 

(( In  one  way  I  can  give  you  no  other ; 
except  that  I  was  just  fool  enough  to  drift 
into  an  engagement  with  a  woman  whom  I 
did  not  really  love,  and  just  not  enough 
of  a  fool  to  make  both  of  us  miserable  for 
life  when  I,  all  too  late,  found  out  my  mis 
take." 

There  passed  before  him  at  that  moment 
other  foolish  blithe  little  loves,  like  faded 
flowers  with  the  sweetness  gone  out  of  them. 
They  had  been  so  innocent,  so  fragile,  so 
free  from  blame ;  all  but  the  last ;  and  this 
last  it  was  that  threatened  to  rise  like  a 
shadow  perhaps,  and  defeat  his  winning  the 
only  woman  he  could  ever  love. 

Kobinette  stared  at  the  stretches  of  ooze, 


166  ROBINETTA 

and  then  stole  a  look  at  Mark  Lavendar. 
"  The  idea  of  calling  that  man  a  jilt,"  she 
thought.  "Look  at  his  eyes;  look  at  his 
mouth ;  listen  to  his  voice ;  there  is  truth  in 
them  all.  Oh  for  a  sight  of  the  girl  he 
jilted !  How  much  it  would  explain  !  No,  not 
altogether,  because  the  careless  making  of  his 
engagement  would  have  to  be  accounted  for, 
as  well  as  the  breaking  of  it.  Unless  he  did  it 
merely  to  oblige  her — and  men  are  such  idiots 
sometimes,  —  then  he  must  have  fancied  he 
was  in  love  with  her.  Perhaps  he  is  continu 
ally  troubled  with  those  fancies.  Nonsense ! 
you  believe  in  him,  and  you  know  you  do." 
Then  aloud  she  said,  sympathetically,  "  I  'm 
afraid  we  are  apt  to  make  these  little  experi 
mental  journeys  in  youth,  when  the  heart  is 
full  of  wanderlust.  We  start  out  on  them 
so  lightly,  then  they  lead  nowhere,  and  the 
walking  back  alone  is  wearisome  and  de 
pressing." 

"  My  return  journey  was  depressing  enough 
at  first,"  said  Lavendar,  "  because  the  par- 


LOVE   IN   THE   MUD  167 

ticular  She  was  unkinder  to  me  than  I  de 
served  even ;  but  better  counsels  have  pre 
vailed  and  I  shall  soon  be"able  to  meet  the 
reproachful  gaze  of  stout  matrons  and  sour 
spinsters  more  easily  than  I  have  for  a  year 
past ;  you  see  the  two  families  were  friends 
and  each  family  had  a  large  and  interested 
connection ! " 

"  If  the  opinion  of  a  comparative  stranger 
is  of  any  use  to  you/'  said  Robin  ette,  stand 
ing  on  the  rock  and  scraping  her  stockinged 
foot  free  of  mud,  "  /  believe  in  you,  per 
sonally  !  You  don't  seem  a  bit  'jilty '  to  me! 
I  'd  let  you  marry  my  sister  to-morrow  and 
no  questions  asked ! " 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  had  a  sister,"  cried 
Lavendar. 

"I  have  n't;  that  's  only  a  figure  of 
speech;  just  a  phrase  to  show  my  confi 
dence." 

"And  isn't  it  ungrateful  to  be  obliged 
to  say  I  can't  marry  your  sister,  after  you 
have  given  me  permission  to  ask  her!" 


168  ROBINETTA 

"Not  only  ungrateful  bat  unreasonable/' 
said  Robinette  saucily,  turning  her  head  to 
look  up  the  river  and  discovering  from  her 
point  of  vantage  a  moving  object  around  the 
curve  that  led  her  to  make  hazardous  re 
marks,  knowing  rescue  was  not  far  away. 
"  What  have  you  against  my  sister,  pray  ?  " 

"  Very  little  !  "  he  said  daringly,  knowing 
well  that  she  held  him  in  her  hand,  and  could 
make  him  dumb  or  let  him  speak  at  any 
moment  she  desired.  "  Almost  nothing !  only 
that  she  is  not  offering  me  her  sister  as  a 
balm  to  my  woes." 

"  She  has  no  sister  ;  she  is  an  only  child  ! 
—  There!  there!"  cried  Robinette,  "the 
tide  is  coming  up  again,  and  the  mud  banks 
off  in  that  direction  are  all  covered  with 
water !  I  see  somebody  in  a  boat,  rowing  to 
wards  us  with  superhuman  energy.  Oh !  if  I 
had  n't  worn  a  white  dress  !  It  will  not  come 
smooth  ;  and  my  lovely  French  hat  is  ruined 
by  the  dampness !  My  one  shoe  shows  how 
inappropriately  I  was  shod,  and  whoever  is 


LOVE   IN  THE  MUD  169 

coining  will  say  it  is  because  I  am  an  Ameri 
can.  He  will  never  know  you  would  n't  let 
me  go  upstairs  and  dress  properly." 

"It  doesn't  matter  anyway,"  rejoined 
Mark,  "  because  it  is  only  Carnaby  coming. 
You  might  know  he  would  find  us  even  if 
we  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  river." 


XIII 

CARNABY   TO    THE   RESCUE 

T  Stoke  Revel,  in  the  meantime,  the  sol 
emn  rites  of  dinner  had  been  inaugurated  as 
usual  by  the  sounding  of  the  gong  at  seven 
o'clock.  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  Miss  Smeardon,  and 
Bates  waited  five  minutes  in  silent  resigna 
tion,  then  Carnaby  came  down  and  was  scolded 
for  being  late,  but  there  was  no  Robinette 
and  no  Lavendar. 

"  Carnaby,"  said  his  grandmother,  "  do 
you  know  where  Mark  intended  going  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Carnaby,  sulkily. 

"Your  cousin  Robinetta," -  —  with  mean 
ing,  — "  perhaps  you  know  her  where 
abouts  ?  " 

"  Not  I !  "  replied  Carnaby  with  affected 
nonchalance.  "I  was  ferreting  with  Wil 
son."  He  had  ferreted  perhaps  for  fifteen 


CARNABY  TO  THE  EESCUE  171 

minutes  and  then  spent  the  rest  of  the  after 
noon  in  solitary  discontent,  but  he  would  not 
have  owned  it  for  the  world. 

"  Call  Bates/'  commanded  Mrs.  de  Tracy. 
Bates  entered.  "  Do  you  know  if  Mr.  Lav- 
endar  intended  going  any  distance  to-day? 
Did  he  leave  any  message  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Lavendar,  ma'am/'  said  Bates,  "  Mr. 
Lavendar  and  Mrs.  Loring  they  went  out  in 
the  boat  after  tea.  Mr.  Lavendar  asked  Wil 
liam  for  the  key,  and  William  he  went  down 
and  got  out  the  oars  and  rudder,  ma'am." 

"Does  William  know  where  they  went?" 
asked  Mrs.  de  Tracy  in  high  displeasure. 
"Was  it  to  Wittisham?" 

"  No,  ma'am,  William  says  they  went  down 
stream.  He  thinks  perhaps  they  were  going 
to  the  Flag  Rock,  and  he  says  the  gentleman 
would  n't  have  a  hard  pull,  as  the  tide  was 
going  out.  But  Mr.  Lavendar  knows  the  river 
well,  ma'am,  as  well  as  Mr.  Carnaby  here." 

"  Then  I  conclude  there  is  no  immediate 
cause  for  anxiety,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  with 


172  ROBINETTA 

satire.  "  You  can  serve  dinner,  Bates ;  there 
seems  no  reason  why  we  should  fast  as  yet ! 
However,  Carnaby,"  she  continued,  "  as  the 
men  cannot  be  spared  at  this  hour,  you  had 
better  go  at  once  and  see  what  has  happened 
to  our  guests." 

"  Right  you  are,"  cried  Carnaby  with  the 
utmost  alacrity.  He  was  hungry,  but  the 
prospect  of  escape  was  better  than  food. 
He  rushed  away,  and  his  boat  was  in  mid- 
river  before  Mrs.  de  Tracy  and  MissSmeardon 
had  finished  their  tepid  soup. 

A  very  slim  young  moon  was  just  rising 
above  the  woods,  but  her  tender  light  cast 
no  shadows  as  yet,  and  there  were  no  stars 
in  the  sky,  for  it  was  daylight  still.  The 
evening  air  was  very  fresh  and  cool ;  there 
was  no  wind,  and  the  edges  of  the  river 
were  motionless  and  smooth,  although  in 
mid-stream  the  now  in-coming  tide  clucked 
and  swirled  as  it  met  the  rush.  Over  at 
Wittisham  one  or  two  lights  were  beginning 
to  twinkle,  and  there  came  drifting  across  the 


CARNABY  TO  THE  RESCUE  173 

water  a  smell  of  wood  smoke  that  suggested 
evening  fires.  Carnaby  handled  a  boat  well, 
for  he  had  been  born  a  sailor,  as  it  were,  and 
his  long,  powerful  strokes  took  him  along  at 
a  fine  pace.  But  although  he  was  going  to 
look  for  Robinette  and  Mark,  he  was  rather 
angry  with  both  of  them,  and  in  no  hurry. 
He  rested  on  his  oars  indifferently  and  let  the 
tide  carry  him  up  as  it  liked,  while,  with  in 
finite  zest,  he  unearthed  a  cigarette  case  from 
the  recesses  of  his  person,  lit  a  cigarette,  and 
smoked  it  coolly.  Under  Carnaby's  appar 
ent  boyishness,  there  was  a  certain  somewhat 
dangerous  quality  of  precocity,  which  was 
stimulated  rather  than  checked  by  his  grand 
mother's  repressive  system.  His  smoking 
now  was  less  the  monkey-trick  of  a  boy, 
than  an  act  of  slightly  cynical  defiance.  He 
was  no  novice  in  the  art,  and  smoked  slowly 
and  daintily,  throwing  back  his  head  and 
blowing  the  smoke  sometimes  through  his  lips 
and  sometimes  through  his  nose.  He  looked 
for  the  moment  older  than  his  years,  and 


174  ROBINETTA 

a  difficult  young  customer  at  that.  His  pre 
sent  sulky  expression  disappeared,  however, 
under  the  influence  of  tobacco  and  adven 
ture. 

"  Where  the  dickens  are  they  ?  "  he  began 
to  wonder,  pulling  harder. 

A  bend  in  the  river  presently  solved  the 
mystery.  On  a  wide  stretch  of  mud-bank, 
which  the  tide  had  left  bare  in  going  out, 
but  was  now  beginning  to  cover  again,  a 
solitary  boat  was  stranded. 

With  this  clue  to  guide  him,  Carnaby's 
bright  eyes  soon  discovered  the  two  dim 
forms  in  the  distance. 

"  Ahoy  !  "  he  shouted,  and  received  a  joy 
ous  answer.  Robin ette  and  Mark  were  the 
two  derelicts,  and  their  rescuer  skimmed  to 
wards  them  with  all  his  strength. 

He  could  get  only  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  rock  to  which  their  boat  was  tied,  and 
from  that  distance  he  surveyed  them,  ex 
pecting  to  find  a  dismal,  ship-wrecked  pair, 
very  much  ashamed  of  themselves  and  get- 


CARNABY  TO  THE  RESCUE  175 

ting  quite  weary  of  each  other.  On  the  con 
trary  the  faces  he  could  just  distinguish  in 
the  uncertain  light,  were  radiant,  and  Rob 
in  ette's  voice  was  as  gay  as  ever  he  had  heard 
it.  He  leaned  upon  his  oars  and  looked  at 
them  with  wonder. 

"Angel  cousin !  "  cried  Robinette.  "  Have 
you  a  little  roast  mutton  about  you  some 
where,  we  are  so  hungry  !  " 

"  You  are,  a  pretty  pair  !  "  he  remarked. 
"  What  have  you  been  and  done  ?  " 

"  We  just  went  for  a  row  after  tea,  Middy 
dear,"  said  Robinette,  "  and  look  at  the  re- 
suit." 

"  You  ?re  not  rowing  now,"  observed  Car- 
naby  pointedly. 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  "we  gave  up  rowing 
when  the  water  left  us,  Carnaby.  Conversa 
tion  is  more  interesting  in  the  mud." 

"But  how  did  you  get  here?  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  the  Flag  Rock  ? "  de 
manded  Carnaby. 

"Is  there  a  Flag  Rock,  Middy  dear?  I 


176  ROBINETTA 

didn't  know/'  said  Robinette  innocently. 
66  It  shows  we  should  n't  go  anywhere  with 
out  our  first  cousin  once  removed.  We  just 
began  to  talk,  here  in  the  boat,  and  the  water 
went  away  and  left  us."  Then  she  laughed, 
and  Mark  laughed  too,  and  Carnaby's  look 
of  unutterable  scorn  seemed  to  have  no 
effect  upon  them.  They  might  almost  have 
been  laughing  at  him,  their  rnirth  was  so 
senseless,  viewed  in  any  other  light. 

"  It 's  nearly  eight  o'clock,"  he  said  sol 
emnly.  "  Perhaps  you  can  form  some  idea 
as  to  what  grandmother 's  saying,  and  Bates." 

"  Well,  you  're  going  to  be  our  rescuer, 
Middy  darling,  so  it  doesn't  matter,"  said 
Robinette.  "  Look  !  the  water 's  coming  up." 

But  Carnaby  seemed  in  no  mood  for 
waiting.  He  had  taken  off  his  boots,  and 
rolled  up  his  trousers  above  his  knees. 

"  I  'd  let  Lavendar  wade  ashore  the  best 
way  he  could  !  "  he  said,  "but  I  s'pose  I've 
got  to  save  you  or  there  'd  be  a  howl." 

"  No  one  would  howl  any  louder  than  you, 


CARNABY  TO  THE  RESCUE  177 

dear,  and  you  know  it.  Don't  step  in!" 
shrieked  Robinette,  "I've  confided  a  shoe 
already  to  the  river-mud  !  I  just  put  my  foot 
in  a  bit,  to  test  it,  and  down  the  poor  foot 
went  and  came  up  without  its  shoe.  Oh, 
Middy  dear,  if  your  young  life  — 

"  Blow  my  young  life  !"  retorted  Carnaby. 
He  was  performing  gymnastics  on  the  edge 
of  his  boat,  letting  himself  down  and  heav 
ing  himself  up,  by  the  strength  of  his  arms. 
His  legs  were  covered  with  mud. 

"  No  go  !  "  he  said.  "  It 's  as  deep  as  the 
pit  here  ;  sometimes  you  can  find  a  rock  or  a 
hard  bit.  We  must  just  wait." 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  after  all,  for 
presently  a  rush  of  the  tide  sent  the  water 
swirling  round  the  stranded  boat,  and  car 
ried  Carnaby's  craft  to  it. 

"  Now  it  '11  be  all  right,"  said  he.  «  You 
push  with  the  boat-hook,  Mark,  and  I'll  pull " ; 
but  it  took  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  pushing 
and  pulling  to  get  the  boat  free  of  the  mud. 

Except  for  the  moon  it  would  have  been 


178  KOBINETTA 

quite  dark  when  the  party  reached  the  pier. 
They  mounted  the  hill  in  some  silence.  It 
was  difficult  for  Robinette  to  get  along  with 
her  shoeless  foot;  Lavendar  wanted  to  help 
her,  but  she  demanded  Carnaby's  arm.  He 
was  sulking  still.  There  was  something  he 
felt,  but  could  not  understand,  in  the  subtle 
atmosphere  of  happiness  by  which  the  truant 
couple  seemed  to  be  surrounded;  a  some 
thing  through  which  he  could  not  reach ;  that 
seemed  to  put  Robinette  at  a  distance  from 
him,  although  her  shoulder  touched  his  and 
her  hand  was  on  his  arm.  Growing  pangs  of 
his  manhood  assailed  him,  the  male's  jeal 
ousy  of  the  other  male.  For  the  moment  he 
hated  Mark;  Mark  talking  joyous  nonsense 
in  a  way  rather  unlike  himself,  as  if  the  night 
air  had  gone  to  his  head. 

"I  ain  glad  you  had  the  ferrets  to  amuse 
you  this  afternoon,"  said  Robinette,  in  a  pro 
pitiatory  tone.  "  Ferrets  are  such  darlings, 
are  n't  they,  with  their  pink  eyes?" 

"  0 !  darlings"  assented   Carnaby  deri- 


CARNABY   TO   THE   RESCUE     179 

sively.  "  One  of  the  darlings  bit  my  finger 
to  the  bone,  not  that  that's  anything  to  you." 

"  Oh !  Middy  dear,  I  am  sorry ! "  cried 
Robinette.  "  I  'd  kiss  the  place  to  make  it 
well,  if  we  were  n't  in  such  a  hurry  ! " 

Carnaby  began  to  find  that  a  dignified 
reserve  of  manner  was  very  difficult  to  keep 
up.  His  grandmother  could  manage  it,  he 
reflected,  but  he  would  need  some  practice. 
When  they  came  to  a  place  where  there  were 
sharp  stones  strewn  on  the  road,  he  became 
a  mere  boy  again  quite  suddenly,  and  pro 
posed  a  "queen's  chair"  for  Robinette.  And 
so  he  and  Lavendar  crossed  hands,  and  one 
arm  of  Robinette  encircled  the  boy's  head, 
while  the  other  just  touched  Lavendar's  neck 
enough  to  be  steadied  by  it.  Their  laugh 
ter  frightened  the  sleepy  birds  that  night. 
The  demoralized  remnant  of  a  Bank  Holiday 
party  would  have  been,  Lavendar  observed, 
respectability  itself  in  comparison  with  them  ; 
and  certainly  no  such  group  had  ever  ap 
proached  Stoke  Revel  before.  They  were  to 


180  EOBINETTA 

enter  by  a  back  door,  and  Carnaby  was  to 
introduce  them  to  the  housekeeper's  room, 
where  he  undertook  that  Bates  would  feed 
them.  Lavendar  alone  was  to  be  ambassador 
to  the  drawing  room. 

"  The  only  one  of  us  with  a  boot  on  each 
foot,  of  course  we  appoint  him  by  a  unanimous 
vote/'  said  Robinette. 

But  the  chief  thing  that  Carnaby  remem 
bered,  after  all,  of  that  evening's  adventure, 
was  Robinette's  sudden  impulsive  kiss  as  she 
bade  him  good-night,  Lavendar  standing  by. 
She  had  never  kissed  him  before,  for  all  her 
cousinliness,  but  she  just  brushed  his  cool, 
round  cheek  to-night  as  if  with  a  swan's- 
down  puff. 

"  That 's  a  shabby  thing  to  call  a  kiss  ! " 
said  the  embarrassed  but  exhilarated  youth. 

"Stop  growling,  you  young  cub,  and  be 
grateful ;  half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread," 
was  Lavendar's  comment  as  he  watched  the 
draggled  and  muddy  but  still  charming 
Robinette  up  the  stairway. 


XIV 

THE    EMPTY    SHRINE 

IAVENDAB  had  discovered,  much  to  his 
dismay,  that  he  must  return  to  London  upon 
important  business ;  it  was  even  a  matter  of 
uncertainty  whether  his  father  could  spare 
him  again  or  would  consent  to  his  returning  to 
Stoke  Eevel  to  conclude  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  ar 
rangements  about  the  sale  of  the  land. 

Affairs  of  the  heart  are  like  thunder 
storms  ;  the  atmosphere  may  sometimes  seem 
charged  with  electricity,  and  yet  circum 
stances,  like  a  sudden  wind  that  sweeps  the 
clouds  away  before  they  break,  may  cause 
the  lovers  to  drift  apart.  Or  all  in  a  moment 
may  come  thunder,  lightning,  and  rain  from 
a  clear  sky,  and  there  is  nothing  that  is  apt 
to  precipitate  matters  like  an  unexpected 
parting. 

When  Lavendar  announced  that  he  had 


182  ROBINETTA 

to  leave  Stoke  Revel,  two  pairs  of  eyes,  Miss 
Smeardon's  and  Carnaby's,  instantly  looked 
at  Robinette  to  see  how  she  received  the  news, 
but  she  only  smiled  at  the  moment.  She  was 
just  beginning  her  breakfast,  and  like  the 
famous  Charlotte,  "went  on  cutting  bread 
and  butter,"  without  any  sign  of  emotion. 

"  Hurrah !  "  thought  the  boy.  "  Now  we 
can  have  some  fun,  and  I  '11  perhaps  make 
her  see  that  old  Lavendar  isn't  the  only 
companion  in  the  world." 

"  She  minds,"  thought  Miss  Smeardon, 
"  for  she  buttered  that  piece  of  bread  on  the 
one  side  a  minute  ago,  and  now  she 's  just 
done  it  on  the  other  —  and  eaten  it  too." 

"  She  does  n't  care  a  bit,"  thought  Laven 
dar.  "  She 's  not  even  changed  colour ;  my 
going  or  staying  is  nothing  to  her;  I  need  n't 
come  back." 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  return  just 
the  same,  if  it  were  at  all  possible,  and  he 
told  Mrs.  de  Tracy  so.  She  remarked  gra 
ciously  that  he  was  a  welcome  guest  at  any 


THE  EMPTY  SHRINE  183 

time,  and  Carnaby,  hearing  this,  pinched 
Lord  Roberts  till  he  howled  like  a  fiend,  and 
fled  for  comfort  to  his  mistress's  lap. 

"  You  little  coward/'  said  Carnaby,  "  you 
should  be  ashamed  to  bear  the  name  of  a 
hero." 

"  I  've  mentioned  to  you  before,  Carnaby, 
I  think,  that  I  dislike  that  jest,"  said  his 
grandmother,  and  Carnaby  advancing  to  the 
injured  beast  said,  "  Yes,  ma'am,  and  so  does 
Bobs,  does  n't  he,  Bobs  ?  "  reducing  the 
lap-dog  to  paroxysms  of  fury.  "  Would  it 
be  any  better  if  I  called  him  Kitchener  f  " 
hissing  the  word  into  the  animal's  face. 
"  Jealous,  Bobs  ?  Eh  ?  Kitchener:'  This  last 
word  had  a  rasping  sound  that  irritated  the 
little  creature  more  than  ever ;  his  teeth  jib- 
bered  with  anger,  and  Miss  Smeardon  had 
to  offer  him  a  saucer  of  cream  before  he 
could  be  calmed  down  enough  for  the  rest 
of  the  party  to  hear  themselves  speak. 

"  Had  you  nice  letters  this  morning  ? 
Mine  were  very  uninteresting,"  Robinette  re" 


184  EOBINETTA 

marked  to  Lavendar  as  they  stood  together  at 
the  doorway  in  the  sunshine,  while  Carnaby 
chased  the  lap-dog  round  and  round  the 
lawn. 

"  I  had  only  two  letters ;  one  was  from 
my  sister  Amy,  the  candid  one!  her  letters 
are  not  generally  exhilarating." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  home  letters  are  usually 
enough  to  send  one  straight  to  bed  with  a 
headache  !  They  never  sound  a  note  of  hope 
from  first  to  last;  although  if  you  had  no 
home,  but  only  a  house,  like  me,  with  no  one 
but  a  caretaker  in  it,  you  yd  be  very  thank 
ful  to  get  them,  doleful  or  not." 

"I  doubt  it,"  Mark  answered,  for  Amy's 
letter  seemed  to  be  burning  a  hole  in  his 
pocket  at  that  moment.  He  had  skimmed  it 
hurriedly  through,  but  parts  of  it  were  already 
only  too  plain. 

When  the  others  had  gone  into  the  house, 
he  went  off  by  himself,  and  jumping  the 
low  fence  that  divided  the  lawn  from  the 
fields  beyond,  he  flung  himself  down  under 


THE  EMPTY   SHRINE  185 

a  tree  to  read  it  over  again.  Carnaby,  spying 
him  there,  came  rushing  from  the  house,  and 
was  soon  pouring  out  a  tale  of  something 
that  had  happened  somewhere,  and  throwing 
stones  as  he  talked,  at  the  birds  circling 
about  the  ivied  tower  of  the  little  church. 

The  field  was  full  of  buttercups  up  to  the 
very  churchyard  walls.  "I  must  get  away 
by  myself  for  a  bit,"  Lavendar  thought. 
"  That  boy's  chatter  will  drive  me  mad." 
At  this  point  Carnaby's  volatile  attention 
was  diverted  by  the  sight  of  a  gardener 
mounting  a  ladder  to  clear  the  sparrows' 
nests  from  the  water  chutes,  and  he  jumped 
up  in  a  twinkling  to  take  his  part  in  this 
new  joy.  Lavendar  rose,  and  strolled  off 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  bare 
head  bent.  The  grass  he  walked  in  was  a  very 
Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  His  shoes  were 
gilded  by  the  pollen  from  the  buttercups,  his 
eyes  dazzled  by  their  colour ;  it  was  a  relief  to 
pass  through  the  stone  archway  that  led  into 
the  little  churchyard.  To  his  spirit  at  that  mo- 


186  KOBINETTA 

ment  the  chill  was  refreshing.  He  loitered 
about  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  seeing 
that  the  door  was  open,  he  entered  the 
church,  closing  the  door  gently  behind 
him. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  there  and  even  the 
chirping  of  the  sparrows  was  softened  into  a 
faint  twitter.  Here  at  last  was  a  place  set 
apart,  a  moment  of  stillness  when  he  might 
think  things  out  by  himself. 

He  took  out  Amy's  letter,  smoothing  it  flat 
on  the  prayer  books  before  him,  and  forced 
himself  to  read  it  through.  The  early  para 
graphs  dealt  with  some  small  item  of  family 
news  which  in  his  present  state  of  mind  mat 
tered  to  Lavendar  no  more  than  the  distant 
chirruping  of  the  birds,  out  there  in  the 
sunshine.  "You  seem  determined  to  stay  for 
some  time  at  Stoke  Revel/'  his  sister  wrote. 
"  No  doubt  the  pretty  American  is  the  attrac 
tion.  She  sounds  charming  from  your  de 
scription,  but  my  dear  man,  that's  all  froth  ! 
How  many  times  have  I  heard  this  sort  of 


THE   EMPTY  SHKINE  187 

thing  from  you  before !  Kemember  I  know 
everything  about  your  former  loves." 

"  You  don't,  then/'  said  Lavendar  to  him 
self.  Down,  down,  down  at  the  bottom  of 
the  well  of  the  heart  where  truth  lies,  there 
is  always  some  remembrance,  generally  a 
very  little  one,  that  can  never  be  told  to  any 
confidant. 

"You  will  find  out  faults  in  Mrs.  Loring 
presently,  just  like  the  rest  of  them,"  con 
tinued  the  pitiless  writer.  (Amy's  hand 
writing  was  painfully  distinct.)  "  I  must  tell 
you  that  at  the  Cowleys*  the  other  day,  I 
suddenly  came  face  to  face  with  Gertrude 
Meredith  and  Dolly  !  Dolly  looks  a  good 
deal  older  already  and  fatter,  I  thought.  I 
fear  she  is  losing  her  looks,  for  her  colour 
has  become  fixed,  and  she  will  wear  no  col 
lars  still,  although  on  a  rather  thick  neck, 
it 's  not  at  all  becoming.  I  spoke  to  her  for 
about  three  minutes,  as  it  was  less  awkward, 
when  we  met  suddenly  face  to  face  like  that. 
She  laughed  a  good  deal,  and  asked  for  you 


188  KOBINETTA 

rather  audaciously,  I  thought.  They  live 
near  Winchester  now,  and  since  the  Colonel's 
death  are  pretty  badly  off,  Gertrude  says. 
Dolly  is  going  to  Devonshire  to  stay  with 
the  Cowleys;  you  may  meet  her  there  any 
day,  remember.  It  does  seem  incredible  to 
me  that  a  man  of  your  discrimination  could 
have  been  won  by  the  obvious  devotion  of  a 
girl  like  Dolly;  but  having  given  your  word 
I  almost  think  you  would  better  have  kept 
it,  rather  than  suffer  all  this  criticism  from  a 
host  of  mutual  friends." 

Lavendar  groaned  aloud.  He  had  a  good 
memory,  and  with  all  too  great  distinctness 
did  he  now  remember  Dolly  Meredith's  laugh. 
How  wretched  it  had  all  been;  not  a  word 
had  ever  passed  between  them  that  had  any 
value  now.  If  he  could  have  washed  the 
thought  of  her  forever  from  his  memory, 
how  greatly  he  would  have  rejoiced  at  that 
moment. 

Well,  it  was  over;  written  down  against 
him,  that  he  had  been  what  the  world  called 


THE   EMPTY   SHRINE  189 

a  jilt  and  a  fool;  yes,  certainly  a  fool,  but 
not  so  great  a  one  as  to  follow  his  folly  to 
its  ultimate  conclusion,  and  tie  himself  for 
life  to  a  woman  he  did  not  love. 

Lavendar  was  extraordinarily  sensitive 
about  the  breaking  of  his  engagement ;  partly 
because  Miss  Meredith  herself,  in  her  first 
rage,  had  avowed  his  responsibility  for  her 
blighted  future,  giving  him  no  chance  for 
chivalrous  behaviour;  partly  because  in  all 
his  transient  love  affairs  he  had  easily  tired 
of  the  women  who  inspired  them.  He  seemed 
thirsty  for  love,  but  weary  of  it  almost  as 
soon  as  the  draught  reached  his  lips. 

And  now  had  he  a  chance  again  ?  —  or 
was  it  all  to  end  in  disappointment  once 
more,  in  that  cold  disappointment  of  the 
heart  that  has  received  stones  for  bread  ?  It 
was  not  entirely  his  own  fault;  he  had  ex 
pected  much  from  life,  and  hitherto  had  re 
ceived  very  little.  But  Robinette  ! 

"Let  me  find  all  her  faults  now,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  or  evermore  keep  silent ;  mean- 


190  EOBINETTA 

time  I  hope  I  am  not  concealing  too  many 
of  my  own." 

He  tried  to  force  himself  into  criticism; 
to  look  at  her  as  a  cold  observer  from  the 
outside  would  have  done;  for  that  curious 
Border  country  of  Love  which  he  had  en 
tered  has  not  an  equable  climate  at  all.  It 
is  fire  and  frost  alternate;  and  criticism  is 
either  roused  almost  to  a  morbid  pitch,  or 
else  the  faculty  is  drugged,  and  nothing, 
not  even  the  enumeration  of  a  hundred 
foibles  will  awaken  it  for  a  time. 

"When  the  cold  fit  had  been  upon  him  the 
evening  before,  Lavendar  had  said  to  himself 
that  her  manner  was  too  free  —  that  she  had 
led  him  on  too  quickly;  no,  that  expression 
was  dishonourable  and  unjust;  he  repented 
it  instantly;  she  had  been  too  unself-con- 
scious,  too  girlish,  too  unthinking,  in  what 
she  said  and  did.  "  But  she  's  a  widow  after 
all,  though  she's  only  two  and  twenty," 
he  went  on  to  himself.  "  Hang  it !  I  wish 
she  were  not!  If  her  heart  were  in  her  hus- 


THE   EMPTY   SHRINE  191 

band's  grave  I  should  be  moaning  at  that; 
and  because  I  see  that  it  is  not,  I  become 
critical.  There  'a  nothing  quite  perfect  in 
life!" 

He  had  begun  by  noticing  some  little  de 
fects  in  her  personal  appearance,  but  he  was 
long  past  that  now;  what  did  such  trifles 
matter,  here  or  there  ?  Then  he  remembered 
all  that  he  had  heard  said  about  American 
women.  Did  those  pretty  clothes  of  hers  mean 
that  she  would  be  extravagant  and  selfish  to 
obtain  them?  Could  a  young  man  with  no 
great  fortune  offer  her  the  luxury  that  was 
necessary  to  her  ?  and  even  so,  what  changes 
come  with  time!  He  had  a  full  realization 
of  what  the  boredom  of  family  life  can  be, 
when  passion  has  grown  stale. 

"At  seventy,  say,  when  I  am  palsied  and 
she  is  old  and  fat,  will  romance  be  alive 
then?  Will  such  feeling  leave  anything 
real  behind  it  when  it  falls  away,  as  the 
white  blossoms  on  Mrs.  Pretty  man's  plum 
tree  will  shrink  and  fall  a  fortnight  hence  ?  " 


192  ROBINETTA 

He  looked  about  him.  On  the  walls  of 
the  little  church  were  tablets  with  the  de 
Tracy  names;  the  names  of  her  forefathers 
amongst  them.  Under  his  feet  were  other 
flags  with  names  upon  them  too  ;  and  out 
there  in  the  sunshine  were  the  grave-stones 
of  a  hundred  dead.  How  many  of  them  had 
been  happy  in  their  loves? 

Not  so  many,  he  thought,  if  all  were  told, 
and  why  should  he  hope  to  be  different? 
Yet  surely  this  was  a  new  feeling,  a  wor 
thy  one,  at  last.  It  was  not  for  her  charming 
person  that  he  loved  her;  not  because  of 
her  beauty  and  her  gaiety  only ;  but  because 
he  had  seen  in  her  something  that  gave  a 
promise  of  completion  to  his  own  nature, 
the  something  that  would  satisfy  not  only 
his  senses  but  his  empty  heart. 

He  clenched  his  hands  on  the  carved  top  of 
the  old  pew  in  front  of  him.  which  was  fash 
ioned  into  a  laughing  gnome  with  the  body 
of  a  duck.  "  And  if  this  should  be  all  a 
dream,"  he  asked  himself  again,  "if  this 


THE   EMPTY   SHRINE  193 

should  all  be  false  too!  Good  Lord!"  he 
cried  half  aloud,  "  I  want  to  be  honest  now ! 
I  want  to  find  the  truth.  My  whole  life  is 
on  the  throw  this  time ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  after  he  had 
uttered  the  words.  He  got  up  and  moved 
slowly  down  the  aisle,  opening  the  door,  see 
ing  again  the  meadow  of  buttercups,  yellow 
as  gold,  and  listening  again  to  the  sparrows 
chirruping  in  the  sunshine  outside. 

"  I  have  been  in  that  church  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  in  try 
ing  to  dive  to  the  depths  of  myself  and  find 
out  whether  I  was  giving  a  woman  all  I  had 
to  give,  I  did  not  get  time  to  consider  that 
woman's  probable  answer,  should  I  place  my 
uninteresting  life  and  liberty  at  her  dis 
posal." 


XV 

"NOW  LTJBIN  is  AWAY" 

IAVENDAR  made  his  adieux  after  luncheon 
and  went  off  to  London.  "  Good-bye  for  the 
present,  Mrs.  de  Tracy ;  I  shall  be  back  on 
Wednesday  probably,  if  I  can  arrange  it," 
he  said.  "  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Loring,"  and  here 
he  altered  the  phrase  to  "  Shall  I  coine  back 
on  Wednesday  ?  "  for  his  hostess  had  left  the 
open  door. 

There  was  no  hesitation,  but  all  too  little 
sentiment,  about  Robinette's  reply. 

"  Wednesday,  at  the  latest,  are  my  orders," 
she  answered  merrily,  and  with  the  words  ring 
ing  in  his  ears  Lavendar  took  his  departure. 

"Do  you  remember  that  this  is  the  after 
noon  of  the  garden  party  at  Revelsmere  ?  " 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  enquired,  coming  into  the 
drawing  room  a  few  minutes  later,  where 
Mrs.  Loring  stood  by  the  open  window.  She 


NOW  LUBIN  IS   AWAY         195 

had  allowed  herself  just  five  minutes  of  de 
pression,  staring  out  at  the  buttercup  meadow. 
How  black  the  rooks  looked  as  they  flew 
about  it  and  how  dreary  everything  was,  now 
that  Lavendar  had  gone !  She  was  woman 
enough  to  be  able  to  feel  inwardly  amused 
at  her  own  absurdity,  when  she  recognized 
that  the  ensuing  three  days  seemed  to  stretch 
out  into  a  limitless  expanse  of  dullness.  "  The 
village  seemed  asleep  or  dead  now  Lubin  was 
away  !  "  Still,  after  all,  it  was  an  occasion 
for  wearing  a  pretty  frock,  and  she  knew 
herself  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  the 
sight  of  a  few  of  her  fellow-creatures  even 
pretending  to  enjoy  themselves,  would  make 
her  volatile  spirits  rise  like  the  mercury  in  a 
thermometer  on  a  hot  day. 

Miss  Smeardon  was  to  be  her  companion, 
as  Mrs.  de  Tracy  had  a  headache  that  after 
noon  and  was  afraid  of  the  heat,  she  said. 
"What  heat?"Robinette  had  asked  inno 
cently,  for  in  spite  of  the  brilliant  sunlight 
the  wind  blew  from  the  east,  keen  as  a  knife. 


196  KOBINETTA 

"  I  shall  take  a  good  wrap  in  the  carriage 
in  spite  of  this  tropical  temperature,"  she 
thought.  Carnaby  refused  point  blank  to 
drive  with  them;  he  would  bicycle  to  the 
party  or  else  not  go  at  all,  so  it  was  alone 
with  Miss  Smeardon  that  Robinette  started  in 
the  heavy  old  landau  behind  the  palsied  horse. 

Miss  Smeardon  gave  one  glance  at  Mrs. 
Loring's  dress,  and  Robinette  gave  one  glance 
at  Miss  Smeardon's,  each  making  her  own 
comments. 

"That  white  cloth  will  go  to  the  cleaner, 
I  suppose,  after  one  wearing,  and  as  for 
that  thing  on  her  head  with  lilac  wistaria 
drooping  over  the  brim,  it  can't  be  meant 
as  a  covering,  or  a  protection,  either  from  sun 
or  wind;  it's  nothing  but  an  ornament!" 
Miss  Smeardon  commented  ;  while  to  herself 
Robinette  ejaculated,  — 

"  A  penwiper,  an  old,  much-used  pen 
wiper,  is  all  that  Miss  Smeardon  resembles 
in  that  black  rag  !  " 

Carnaby,  watching  the  start  at  the  door, 


NOW   LUBIN  IS   AWAY         197 

whistled  in  open  admiration  as  Robinette 
came  down  the  steps. 

"  Well,  well !  we  are  got  up  to  kill  this 
afternoon  ;  pity  old  Mark  has  just  gone ;  but 
cheer  up,  Cousin  Robin,  there's  always  a 
curate  on  hand  !  " 

For  once  Robinette's  ready  tongue  pkyed 
her  false,  and  a  sense  of  loneliness  overcame 
her  at  the  sound  of  Lavendar's  name.  She 
gathered  up  her  long  white  skirts  and  got 
into  the  carriage  with  as  much  dignity  as  she 
could  muster,  while  Carnaby,  his  eyes  twin 
kling  with  mischief,  stood  ready  to  shut  the 
door  after  Miss  Smeardon. 

"  Hope  you  '11  enjoy  your  drive,"  he  jeered. 
"You'll  need  to  hold  on  your  hats.  Buce 
phalus  goes  at  such  fiery  speed  that  they'll 
be  torn  off  your  heads  unless  you  do." 

"Middy  dear,  you're  not  the  least  amus 
ing,"  said  Robinette  quite  crossly,  and  with 
a  lurch  the  carriage  moved  off. 

Miss  Smeardon  settled  herself  for  conver 
sation.  "I  'm  afraid  you  will  find  me  but  a 


198  EOBINETTA 

dull  companion,  Mrs.  Loring,"  she  said, 
glancing  sideways  at  Robinette  from  under 
the  brim  of  her  mushroom  hat. 

"  Oh,  you  will  be  able  to  tell  me  who  every 
one  is,"  said  Robinette  as  cheerfully  as  she 
could. 

"I  am  no  gossip,"  Miss  Smeardon  pro 
tested. 

"  It  is  n't  necessary  to  gossip,  is  it  ? —  but 
I  've  a  wholesome  interest  in  my  fellow  crea 
tures." 

"And  it  is  well  to  know  about  people  a 
little;  when  one  comes  among  strangers  as 
you  do,  Mrs.  Loring ;  one  can't  be  too  care 
ful —  an  American,  particularly." 

Miss  Smeardon's  voice  trailed  off  upon  a 
note  of  insinuation;  but  Robinette  took  no 
notice  of  the  remark.  She  did  not  seem  to 
have  anything  to  say,  so  Miss  Smeardon  took 
up  another  subject. 

"What  a  pity  that  Mr.  Lavendar  had  to 
leave  before  this  afternoon  ;  he  would  have 
been  such  an  addition  to  our  party ! " 


NOW  LUBIN  IS  AWAY         199 

"Yes,  wouldn't  he?"  Robinette  agreed, 
though  she  carefully  kept  out  of  her  voice 
the  real  passion  of  assent  that  was  in  her 
heart. 

"Mr.  Lavendar  is  so  agreeable,  I  always 
think/'  Miss  Smeardon  went  on.  "  Everyone 
likes  him;  he  almost  carries  his  pleasant  ways 
too  far.  I  suppose  that  was  how — "  She 
paused,  and  added  again,  "  Oh,  but  as  I  said, 
I  never  talk  scandal ! " 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  possible  to  be  too  plea 
sant  ?  "  Robinette  remarked,  stupidly  enough, 
scarcely  caring  what  she  said. 

"  Well,  when  it  leads  a  poor  girl  to  ima 
gine  that  she  is  loved !  I  hear  that  Dolly 
Meredith  is  just  heart-broken.  The  engage 
ment  kept  on  for  quite  a  year,  I  believe, 
and  then  to  break  it  off  so  heartlessly !  —  I 
was  reminded  of  it  all  by  coming  here.  Miss 
Meredith  is  a  cousin  of  our  hostess,  and  they 
met  first  at  Revelsmere  when  they  were  quite 
young." 

"  There  is  always  a  certain  amount  of  talk 


200  EOBINETTA 

when  an  engagement  has  to  be  broken  off," 
said  Robinette  in  a  cold  voice. 

"  They  seemed  quite  devoted  at  first," 
Miss  Smeardon  began  ;  but  Robinette  inter 
rupted  her. 

66  The  sooner  such  things  are  forgotten  the 
better,  I  think,"  she  said.  "  No  one,  except 
the  two  people  concerned,  ever  knows  the  real 
truth.  —  Tell  me,  Miss  Smeardon,  whom  we 
are  likely  to  meet  at  Eevelsmere?  Who  is  our 
hostess  ?  W  hat  sort  of  parties  does  she  give  ? ' ' 

Being  so  firmly  switched  off  from  the  af 
fairs  of  Mr,  Lavendar  and  Miss  Meredith,  it 
was  impossible  for  Miss  Smeardon  to  talk 
about  them  any  more,  and  she  had  to  turn  to 
a  less  congenial  theme. 

"  We  shall  meet  the  neighbours,"  she  told 
Robinette,  "  but  I  am  afraid  they  may  not 
interest  you  very  much.  I  understand  that 
in  America  you  are  accustomed  to  a  great 
deal  of  the  society  of  gentlemen.  Here  there 
are  so  few,  and  all  of  them  are  married." 

"All?"  laughed  Robinette. 


NOW  LUBIN   IS  AWAY         201 

"Well,  there  is  Mr.  Finch,  the  curate, 
but  he  is  a  celibate ;  and  young  Mr.  Tait  of 
Strewe,  but  he  is  slightly  paralysed." 

"  Why,  Carnaby  must  be  quite  an  eligible 
bachelor  in  these  parts/'  said  Robinette;  but 
Miss  Smeardon  was  so  deadly  literal  that  she 
accepted  the  remark  as  a  serious  one. 

"  Not  quite  yet ;  in  a  few  years'  time  we 
shall  need  to  be  very  careful,  there  are  so 
many  girls  here,  but  not  all  of  them  desirable, 
of  course." 

"  There  are  ?  What  a  dull  time  they  must 
have  with  the  Married  Men,  the  Celibate,  the 
Paralytic,  and  Carnaby !  I  'm  glad  my  girl 
hood  was  n't  spent  in  Devonshire." 

Conversation  ended  here,  for  the  carriage 
rumbled  up  the  avenue,  and  Robinette  looked 
about  her  eagerly.  Revelsmere  was  a  nice  old 
house,  surrounded  by  fine  sloping  lawns  and 
a  background  of  sombre  beechwoods.  The 
lawns  to-day  were  dotted  with  groups  of  peo 
ple,  mainly  women,  and  elderly  at  that.  As 
Robinette  and  Miss  Smeardon  alighted  at 


202  EOBINETTA 

the  door  an  elderly  hostess  welcomed  them, 
and  an  elderly  host  led  them  across  the  lawn 
and  straightly  they  fell  into  the  clutches  of 
more  and  more  elderlies. 

"  It  is  fairly  bewildering !  "  Robinette  cried 
in  her  heart ;  then  she  saw  a  bevy  of  girls  ap 
proaching;  such  nice-looking  girls,  happy, 
well  dressed,  but  all  unattended  by  their 
suitable  complement  of  young  men. 

"  For  whom  do  they  dress,  here  ?  They  Ve 
a  deal  of  self-respect,  I  think,  to  go  on  get 
ting  themselves  up  so  nicely  for  themselves  and 
the  Celibate,  the  Paralytic,  and  Carnaby," 
thought  Robinette,  as  she  watched  them. 

Presently  another  couple  came  across  the 
lawn ;  the  young  woman  was  by  no  means  a 
girl,  rather  heavily  built,  with  a  high  fixed 
colour.  She  was  attended  by  a  man.  "Not 
the  Celibate  certainly,"  thought  Mrs.  Loring 
with  a  glance  at  his  bullock-like  figure,  his 
thick  neck,  and  glossy  black  hair,  "  nor  the 
Paralytic ;  and  it 's  not  Carnaby.  It  must 
be  a  new  arrival !  " 


NOW  LUBIN  IS  AWAY          203 

At  that  moment  it  began  to  rain,  but  no 
thing  daunted,  their  hostess  approached  her, 
and  saying  pleasantly  that  she  wished  to  in 
troduce  her  to  Miss  Meredith,  she  left  Robin- 
ette  and  the  young  woman  standing  together 
under  a  spreading  tree,  and  took  the  gentle 
man  away  with  her. 

The  moment  that  she  heard  the  name,  Rob- 
inette  realized  who  Miss  Meredith  was.  They 
seated  themselves  side  by  side  on  a  garden 
bench,  and  Miss  Meredith  remarked  upon  the 
heat,  planting  a  rather  fat  hand  upon  the 
arm  of  the  garden  seat,  and  surveying  it  com 
placently,  especially  the  very  bright  diamond 
ring  upon  the  third  finger. 

After  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  she  asked 
Mrs.  Loring  if  she  were  stopping  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

"  Yes,  I  am  staying  at  Stoke  Revel  for  a 
short  time,"  Robinette  replied;  "Mrs.  de 
Tracy  is  my  aunt,  or  at  least  I  am  Admiral 
de  Tracy's  niece." 

Her  companion  did  not  seem  to  take  the 


204  KOBINETTA 

least  interest  in  this  part  of  the  information, 
only  when  Stoke  Eevel  was  mentioned  she 
looked  around  suddenly  as  if  surprised. 

They  talked  upon  indifferent  subjects, 
while  Robinette,  as  she  watched  Miss  Mere 
dith,  was  saying  a  good  deal  to  herself, 
although  she  only  spoke  aloud  about  the 
weather  and  the  Devonshire  scenery. 

"I  will  be  just,  if  I  can't  be  generous," 
she  thought.  "She  has  (or  she  must  once 
have  had)  a  fine  complexion.  I  dare  say 
she  is  sincere  enough ;  she  may  be  sensi 
ble  ;  she  might  be  good-humoured,  —  when 
pleased." 

"There  is  going  to  be  a  shower,"  said 
Miss  Meredith,  "but  I've  nothing  on  to 
spoil,"  she  added,  glancing  at  Robinette's 
hat. 

Sitting  there  on  the  bench,  hearing  the  spit 
ting  rain  upon  the  water  below  them  and 
watching  the  leaden  mists  that  slowly  gath 
ered  over  the  landscape,  Robinette  fell  upon 
a  moment  of  soul  sickness  very  unusual  to 


NOW  LUBIN  IS   AWAY          205 

her.  Miss  Meredith  too  was  silent,  absorbed 
in  her  own  thoughts. 

"If  she  had  looked  even  a  little  different 
it  would  have  been  so  much  easier  to  ex 
plain,"  thought  Robinette.  Then  suddenly 
she  glanced  up.  She  saw  that  her  compan 
ion's  face  had  softened,  and  changed.  There 
was  a  look,  —  Robinette  caught  it  just  for 
one  moment, — such  as  a  proud  angry  child 
might  have  worn :  sulky,  hurt  to  the  heart, 
but  determined  not  to  cry.  Instantly  a  chord 
was  struck  in  Robinette's  soul.  "She  has  suf 
fered,  anyway,"  she  thought.  "  May  I  be  for 
given  for  my  harsh  judgment ! " 

With  a  shiver  she  drew  her  wrap  about 
her  shoulders,  and  Miss  Meredith  turned  to 
wards  her.  The  expression  Robinette  had 
noticed  passed  from  the  high-coloured  face 
and  left  it  as  before,  self-complacent  and 
slightly  patronizing.  "You  seem  to  feel 
cold,"  she  said.  "I  never  do  ;  which  is  rather 
unfortunate,  as  I  'm  just  going  out  to 
India!" 


206  ROBINETTA 

"  Indeed  ?  How  soon  are  you  going  ?  " 
"  In  about  six  weeks.  I  'm  just  going  to 
be  married,  and  we  sail  directly  afterwards/' 
said  Miss  Meredith.  "  You  saw  Mr.  Joyce,  I 
think,  when  we  came  up  together  a  few  min 
utes  ago  ?  " 

A  weight  as  if  of  a  ton  of  lead  was  lifted 
from  Robinette's  heart  as  she  spoke.  She 
could  scarcely  refrain  from  jumping  up  to 
throw  her  arms  about  Dolly  Meredith's  neck 
and  kiss  her.  As  it  was,  she  bubbled  over  with 
a  kind  of  sympathetic  interest  that  aston 
ished  the  other  woman.  It  is  only  too  easy 
to  lead  an  approaching  bride  to  talk  about 
her  own  affairs,  for  she  can  seldom  take  in 
the  existence  of  even  her  nearest  and  dear 
est  at  such  a  time,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
two  young  women  were  deep  in  conversation. 
When  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Miss  Smear- 
don  appeared  to  tell  Robinette  that  they 
must  be  going,  she  looked  up  with  a  start  at 
the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  gravel  path. 
"  Oh,  you  are  here,  Mrs.  Loring;  we  could  n't 


NOW  LUBIN  IS  AWAY          207 

think  where  you  had  gone/'  said  Miss  Sniear- 
don,  acidly. 

"  And  here  is  Miss  Meredith  of  all  people !  " 
she  continued,  "  I  thought  you  were  sure  to 
be  on  the  tennis  court,  Miss  Meredith ;  Mr. 
Joyce  is  playing  now." 

"  Oh,  we  have  had  such  a  delightful  talk," 
said  Dolly,  so  flushed  with  pleasure  that  Miss 
Smeardon  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  If  only  I  knew  her  well  enough  to  send 
her  a  munificent  wedding  present !  How  I 
should  love  to  do  so  ;  just  to  register  my  own 
joy,"  said  Robinette  to  herself.  As  it  was 
she  shook  hands  very  warmly  with  Miss 
Meredith  before  they  parted,  and  when  half 
way  across  the  lawn,  looked  back  again,  and 
waved  her  hand  gaily.  Miss  Meredith  was 
pacing  the  grass,  and  treading  heavily  beside 
her,  with  a  very  gallant  air,  was  her  bullock- 
like  young  man. 

"  Mr.  Joyce  is  quite  wealthy,"  said  Miss 
Smeardon.  "  I  understand  that  he  is  an  only 
son  too,  and  will  some  day  inherit  a  fine  prop- 


208  ROBINETTA 

erty.  Miss  Meredith  is  most  fortunate,  at  her 
age  and  with  her  history." 

Robinette  said  nothing1.  She  looked  out  at 
the  glistening  reaches  of  the  river,  now  shin 
ing  through  the  silver  mist ;  at  the  fields 
yellow  with  buttercups,  and  the  folds  of  the 
distant  hills.  As  they  drove  up  the  lane  to 
the  house,  the  birds,  refreshed  by  the  rain, 
were  singing  like  angels.  In  her  heart  too, 
something  was  singing  as  blithely  as  any  bird 
amongst  them  all. 

"  Sometimes,  sometimes  our  mistakes  do 
not  come  home  to  roost !  "  she  thought, "  but 
fly  away  and  make  nests  elsewhere  —  rich 
nests  in  India  too ! 

"How  did  you  enjoy  the  party,  Cousin 
Robin?"  said  Carnaby,  who  was  waiting 
for  them  in  the  doorway.  "  I  had  a  good 
tuck-in  of  strawberries.  The  ladies  were  a 
little  young  for  my  taste ;  just  immature 
girls ;  no  one  under  sixty,  and  rather  frisky, 
don't  you  think  ?  By  the  way  did  you  see 
Number  One  and  her  millionaire?" 


NOW   LUBIN  IS  AWAY          209 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  Number 
One/'  said  Robinette  haughtily,  as  she  passed 
in  at  the  door. 

"  You  will,  when  you're  Number  Two  !  " 
rejoined  Carnaby,  stooping  to  pinch  Lord 
Roberts'  tail  till  the  hero  yelped  aloud. 


XVI 

TWO     LETTERS 

IA.VENDAR  tore  up  his  fourth  sheet  of  pa 
per  and  began  afresh.  "  Dear  Mrs.  Loring." 
No,  that  would  not  do;  he  took  another 
sheet,  and  began  again :  — 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Loring, — Your  commis 
sion  for  old  Mrs.  Prettyman  has  taken  some 
little  time  to  execute,  for  I  had  to  go  to  two 
or  three  shops  before  finding  a  chair  '  with 
green  cushions,  and  a  wide  seat,  so  com 
fortable  that  it  would  almost  act  as  an  anaes 
thetic  if  her  rheumatism  happened  to  be  bad, 
and  yet  quite  suitable  for  a  cottage  room.' 
These  were  my  orders,  I  think,  and  like  all 
your  orders  they  demand  something  better 
than  the  mere  perfunctory  observance.  My 
own  proportions  differing  a  good  deal  from 
those  of  the  old  lady,  it  is  still  an  open  ques 
tion  whether  what  seemed  comfortable  to  me 


TWO  LETTERS  211 

will  be  quite  the  same  to  her.  I  can  but 
hope  so,  and  the  chair  will  be  dispatched 
at  once. 

"  London  is  noisy  and  dusty,  and  grimy 
and  stuffy,  and,  to  one  man  at  least,  very, 
very  dull.  A  boat  on  Greenshaw  ferry  seems 
the  only  spot  in  the  world  where  any  gaiety 
is  to  be  found.  You  can  hear  the  cuckoos 
calling  across  the  river  as  you  read  this,  no 
doubt,  and  Carnaby  is  rendered  happier  than 
he  deserves  by  being  allowed  to  row  you 
down  to  tell  Mrs.  Prettyman  about  the 
chair.  I  feel  as  if,  like  the  Japanese,  I  could 
journey  a  hundred  miles  to  worship  that 
wonderful  tree.  —  Don't  let  the  blossoms 
fall  until  I  come  ! 

"  There  seems  a  good  deal  of  business  to 
be  done.  My  father  unfortunately  is  no 
better,  so  he  cannot  come  down  to  Stoke 
Revel,  and  I  shall  probably  return  upon 
Wednesday  morning.  A  poem  of  Brown 
ing's  runs  in  my  head  —  something  about 
three  days  —  I  can't  quote  exactly. 


212  EOBINETTA 

"  If  my  sister  were  writing  this  letter,  she 
would  say  that  I  have  been  very  hard  to 
please,  and  uninterested  in  everything  since 
I  came  home.  Indeed  it  seems  as  if  I  were. 
London  in  this  part  of  it,  in  hot  weather, 
makes  a  man  weary  for  green  woods,  a  slid 
ing  river,  and  a  Book  of  Verses  underneath 
a  Bough.  Well,  perhaps  I  shall  have  all  of 
them  by  Wednesday  afternoon.  You  will 
think  I  can  do  nothing  but  grumble.  All 
the  same,  into  what  was  the  mere  dull  rou 
tine  of  uncongenial  work  before,  your  influ 
ence  has  come  with  a  current  of  new  energy ; 
like  the  tide  from  the  sea  swelling  up  into 
the  inland  river.  —  I  'm  at  it  again !  Rivers 
on  the  brain  evidently. 

"  I  hope  meanwhile  that  Carnaby  behaves 
himself,  and  is  not  too  much  of  a  bore,  and 
that  England,  —  England  in  spring  at  least, 
is  gaining  a  corner  in  your  heart?  Your 
mother  called  it  home,  remember.  Yes,  do 
try  to  remember  that! 

"  Did  you  go  to  the  garden  party  ?  Did  you 


TWO  LETTERS  213 

walk  ?    Did  you  drive  ?    Did  you   like  it  ? 
Who  was  there  ?   Were  you  dull  ?  " 

There  was  a  postscript :  — 
"  I  have  found  the  verse  from  Browning, 
'  So  I  shall  see  her  in  three  days.' 

«  M.  L." 

"  Tuesday,  19th. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Lavendar :  First,  many  thanks 
for  Nurse's  arm-chair,  which  arrived  in  per 
fect  order,  and  is  a  shining  monument  to 
your  good  taste.  She  does  nothing  but  look 
at  it,  shrouding  it  when  she  retires  to  bed 
with  an  old  table-cover,  to  protect  it  from  the 
night  air. 

"  Whether  she  will  ever  make  its  acquaint 
ance  thoroughly  enough  to  sit  in  it  I  do  not 
know,  but  it  will  give  her  an  enormous 
amount  of  pleasure.  Perhaps  her  glow  of 
pride  in  its  possession  does  her  as  much  good 
as  the  comfort  she  might  take  in  its  use. 

"  Her  '  rheumatics '  are  very  painful  just 
now,  and  I  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 


211  ROBINETTA 

Duckie.  You  remember  Duckie  ?  I  call  her 
Mrs.  Mackenzie,  after  that  lady  in  The  New- 
comes  who  talked  the  Colonel  to  death.  Mrs. 
Mackenzie  is  heavy,  elderly,  and  strong-willed. 
I  am  acquainted  with  every  bone,  tendon, 
and  sinew  in  her  body,  having  to  lift  her 
into  a  coop  behind  the  cottage  where  she 
will  not  wake  Nurse  at  dawn  with  her  eternal 
quacking.  She  has  heretofore  slept  under 
Nurse's  bed-room  window  and  dislikes  change 
of  any  kind.  So  lucky  she  has  no  offspring! 
I  tremble  to  think  of  what  maternal  example 
might  do  in  such  a  talkative  family  ! 

"  Stoke  Revel  is  as  it  was  and  ever  will  be, 
world  without  end ;  only  Aunt  de  Tracy  is 
crosser  than  when  you  are  here  and  life  is 
not  as  gay,  although  Carnaby  does  his  dear, 
cubbish  best.  If  ever  you  desire  your  mental 
jewels  to  shine  at  their  brightest;  if  ever  you 
wish  a  tolerably  good  disposition  to  seem 
like  that  of  an  angel;  if  ever,  in  a  fit  of 
vanity,  you  would  like  to  appear  as  a  blend 
of  Apollo,  Lancelot,  Demosthenes,  Prince 


TWO  LETTERS  215 

Charlie,  Ajax,  and  Solomon,  just  fly  to  Stoke 
Revel  and  become  part  of  the  household. 
Assume  nothing ;  simply  appear,  and  the 
surroundings  will  do  the  rest;  like  the  pen- 
ny-in-the-slot  arrangements.  Seen  upon  a 
background  of  Bates,  William,  Benson,  Big 
Cummins,  the  Curate,  Miss  Smeardon,  and 
may  I  dare  to  add,  the  lady  of  the  Manor 
herself,  —  any  living  breathing  man  takes  on 
an  Olympian  majesty.  I  should  n't  miss  you 
in  Boston  nor  in  London;  perhaps  even  in 
Weston  I  might  find  a  wretched  substitute, 
but  here  you  are  priceless  ! 

"I  have  some  news  for  you.  On  Saturday 
Miss  Smeardon  and  I  went  to  a  garden  party. 
That  was  what  it  was  called.  The  thermome 
ter  was  only  slightly  below  zero  when  we 
started,  and  that  luminary  masquerading  as 
the  sun  was  pretending  to  shine.  Soon  after 
we  arrived  at  the  festive  scene,  there  were 
gusts  of  wind  and  rain.  I  sought  the  shel 
ter  of  a  spreading  tree,  the  kitchen  fire  not 
being  available,  and  I  was  joined  there  by 


216  KOBINETTA 

the  hostess,  who  presented  her  niece,  your 
Miss  Meredith. 

"Dear  Mr.  Lavendar,  this  is  a  subject  we 
cannot  write  about,  you  and  I.  I  am  loyal 
to  my  sex,  and  what  Miss  Meredith  said,  and 
looked,  and  did,  are  all  as  sacred  to  me  as 
they  ought  to  be.  I  only  want  to  tell  you 
that  she  is  happy ;  that  she  has  this  very 
week  become  engaged,  and  is  going  to 
India  with  her  husband  in  a  month.  Now 
that  little  cankerworm,  that  has  been  gnaw 
ing  at  your  roots  of  life  for  the  last  year  or 
two,  has  done  its  worst,  and  you  are  per 
fectly  free  to  go  and  make  other  mistakes. 
I  only  hope  you  '11  get  *  scot  free '  from  those, 
too,  for  I  don't  like  to  see  nice  men  burn 
their  fingers.  We  became  such  good  friends 
huddled  up  in  that  boat  when  we  were  stuck 
in  the  mud — Ugh!  I  can  smell  it  now! 
—  that  I  am  glad  to  be  the  first  to  send  you 
pleasant  news. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"ROBINETTA  LORING." 


XVII 

MRS.    DE   TRACY    CROSSES    THE   FERRY 

IAVENDAR'S  blunt  refusal,  except  under 
certain  conditions,  to  announce  to  Mrs. 
Prefctyman  her  coming  ejection  from  the 
cottage  at  Wittisham,  was  unprofessional 
enough,  as  he  himself  felt ;  but  it  was  final 
and  categorical.  Conveying  as  it  did  a  sort 
of  tacit  remonstrance,  this  refusal  had  an 
unfortunate  effect,  for  it  only  served  to  rouse 
Mrs.  de  Tracy's  formidable  obstinacy.  She 
had  seized  upon  one  point  only  in  their  num 
berless  and  wearisome  discussions  of  the 
matter :  Mrs.  Prettyman  had  no  legal  claim 
upon  Stoke  Revel.  To  give  her  compensa 
tion  for  the  plum  tree  would  be  to  allow 
that  she  had ;  to  create  a  precedent  highly 
dangerous  under  the  circumstances.  How 
could  one  refuse  to  other  old  women  or  old 
men  leaving  their  cottages  what  one  had 


218  ROBINETTA 

weakly  granted  to  her?  The  demands  would 
be  unceasing,  the  trouble  endless.  So  argu 
ing,  Mrs.  de  Tracy  soon  brought  herself  to 
a  state  of  determination  bordering  on  a  sort 
of  mania.  She  was  old,  and  in  exaggerated 
harshness  her  life  was  retreating  as  it  were 
into  its  last  stronghold,  at  bay. 

As  good  as  her  word,  for  she  had  vowed 
she  would  warn  Mrs.  Prettyman  herself,  and 
she  was  never  one  to  procrastinate,  the  lady 
of  the  Manor  proceeded  to  plan  her  visit  to 
Wittisham.  She  had  not  crossed  the  river 
for  years.  Wittisham,  one  of  the  loveliest 
villages  in  England,  perhaps,  though  little 
known,  was  a  thorn  in  her  side,  as  it  would 
have  been  in  that  of  any  other  landlord  with 
empty  pockets. 

What  you  could  not  deal  with  to  your 
own  advantage,  it  was  better  to  ignore,  and 
on  this  autocratic  principle,  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
had  left  Wittisham  to  itself. 

But  now  the  boat  carried  her  there,  alone 
and  fierce  —  thrawn,  as  the  Scotch  say  — 


ACROSS  THE  FERRY  219 

bent  upon  a  course  of  conduct  that  she  knew 
would  hold  her  up  to  the  hatred  of  every  right- 
thinking  person  of  her  acquaintance,  and 
bitterly  triumphant  in  the  knowledge.  The 
meanness  of  her  errand  never  struck  her. 
On  the  contrary,  she  would  have  argued  it 
was  one  well  worthy  of  her,  a  part  of  the 
scheme  in  the  consummation  of  which  she 
had  spent  her  married  life  and  her  whole 
indomitable  energy,  losing  actually  her  own 
identity  in  the  process,  and  becoming  an 
inexorable  machine.  That  scheme  was  the 
holding  together  of  Stoke  Revel  for  the 
de  Tracys,  the  maintenance  of  family  dignity 
and  power,  the  pre-eminence  of  a  race  that 
had  always  ruled.  The  river  beneath  her, 
carrying  her  to  the  fulfilment  of  her  duty, 
the  noble  river,  widening  to  the  sea,  subject 
to  its  tides  and  made  turbulent  by  its  storms, 
typified  to  Mrs.  de  Tracy  only  the  great 
ness  of  Stoke  Revel.  From  its  banks  the 
de  Tracys  had  sent  out,  generation  after 
generation,  men  who  had  commanded  fleets, 


220  KOBINETTA 

who  had  upheld  the  national  honour  upon 
the  farthest  seas,  very  often  at  the  cost 
of  life.  Tl>  re  was  no  sacrifice  of  herself 
at  which  Mrs.  de  Tracy  would  have  hesi 
tated  in  upholding  this  ideal,  no  sacrifice 
of  others,  either.  What  was  Lizzie  Pretty  - 
inan  in  comparison  ?  A  bag  of  old  hones,  fit 
f  (;r  nothing  but  the  workhouse ! 

"  A  little  faster,  William,"  said  the  widow, 
sitting  upright  in  the  stern,  and  William  the 
footman  bent  to  his  oars,  the  beads  of  per 
spiration  standing  on  his  brow.  When  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  stepped  out  upon  the  pier,  she  had 
to  be  reminded  where  the  Prettyman  cottage 
was. 

"  You  '11  know  it  by  the  plum  tree, 
ma'am,"  said  William  respectfully,  "  every 
body  does." 

It  was  not  far  off  on  the  river  side.  The 
tide  had  ebbed  and  left  a  stretch  of  muddy 
foreshore  in  front  of  it,  where  the  rotting 
poles  for  hanging  the  fishing  nets  out  to 
dry  stood  gauntly  up.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  ap- 


ACROSS  THE  FERRY  221 

proached  the  steps,  which  merged  into  the 
flagged  path  before  the  door,  and  paused  to 
survey  the  property  she  intended  to  part 
with.  She  had  no  eye  for  the  picturesque. 
A  few  white  petals  from  the  blossoming  plum 
tree,  scattered  by  the  breeze,  fell  upon  her 
black  bonnet  and  shoulders.  A  faint  scent 
of  honey  came  from  it  and  the  hum  of  bees, 
for  the  day  was  warm.  The  tumble-down 
condition  of  the  cottage  engaged  Mrs.  de 
Tracy 's  attention. 

"  And  for  this,"  she  thought  scornfully, 
"  a  man  will  give  hundreds  of  pounds ! 
There 's  truth  in  the  adage  that  a  fool  and 
his  money  are  soon  parted  !  " 

She  mounted  the  steps  that  led  up  to  the 
patch  of  garden,  her  keen,  cold  eyes  every 
where  at  once.  "  A  cat  can't  sneeze  without 
she  'ears  'im ! "  her  villagers  at  Stoke  Revel 
were  wont  to  say,  disappearing  into  their 
houses  as  rabbits  into  their  burrows  at  sight 
of  a  terrier. 

Old   Elizabeth    Prettyman   stood   at    her 


222  KOBINETTA 

door,  and  it  took  some  time  to  make  her 
realize  who  her  august  visitor  was.  She  was 
getting  blind ;  she  had  never  been  a  favour 
ite  with  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  nor  had  she  entered 
Stoke  Revel  Manor  since  her  nursling  dis 
graced  it  by  marrying  a  Bean.  She  curt 
seyed  humbly  to  the  great  lady. 

"There  now,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "it's  not 
often  we  have  seen  you  across  the  river.  Will 
you  please  to  come  inside  and  sit  down, 
ma'am  ?  'T  is  very  warm  this  afternoon,  it  is." 
She  was  a  good  deal  fluttered  in  her  welcome, 
for  there  was  that  in  Mrs.  de  Tracy 's  air 
that  seemed  to  bode  misfortune. 

"I  shall  sit  down  for  a  few  minutes,  Eliz 
abeth,"  was  the  reply,  "while  I  explain  my 
visit  to  you." 

Mrs.  Prettyman  stood  aside  respectfully, 
and  Mrs.  de  Tracy  swept  past  her  into  the 
cottage  and  seated  herself  there.  It  never 
occurred  to  her  to  ask  the  old  woman  to  sit 
down  in  her  own  house;  she  expected  her 
to  stand  throughout  the  interview.  Without 


ACROSS  THE  FERRY  223 

further  preamble,  then,  Mrs.  de  Tracy  came 
to  the  point :  — 

"  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  "  I  have  come  to 
tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  sell  the  land  on 
which  this  cottage  stands,  and  that  you  will 
have  to  find  some  other  home." 

The  old  woman  did  not  understand  for  a 
minute.  "You  be  going  to  sell  the  land, 
ma'am?"  she  repeated  stupidly. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  A  gentleman  from  London 
wishes  to  buy  it ;  you  will  need  to  go." 

"  A  gentleman  from  London !  Lor,  ma'am, 
no  gentleman  from  London  wouldn't  live 
'ere!"  Elizabeth  cried,  perfectly  dazed  by 
the  statement. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  repeated  :  u  It  is  not  your 
business,  Elizabeth,  what  he  intends  to  do 
with  the  place ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  re 
move  from  the  house." 

The  old  woman  sank  down  on  the  nearest 
chair  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
She  was  so  old  arid  so  tired  that  she  had  no 
heart  to  face  life  under  new  conditions,  even 


224  ROBINETTA 

should  they  be  better  than  those  she  left.  A 
younger  woman  would  have  snapped  her 
fingers  in  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  face,  so  to  speak, 
and  wished  her  joy  of  her  old  rattletrap  of 
a  house,  but  Elizabeth  Pretty  man,  after  a 
lifetime  of  struggles,  had  not  vitality  enough 
for  such  an  action.  She  had  never  dreamed 
of  leaving  the  cottage,  and  where  was  she 
to  go  ?  Her  furrowed  face  wore  an  expres 
sion  of  absolute  terror  now  when  she  looked 
up. 

"But  where  be  I  to  live,  ma'am ?"  she 
cried. 

a  I  do  not  know,  Elizabeth ;  you  must  ar 
range  that  with  your  relations,"  said  Mrs.  de 
Tracy. 

"  I  don't  'ave  but  only  me  niece  —  'er  as 
married  down  Exeter  way." 

"  Well,  you  should  write  to  her  then." 

"  She  don't  want  to  keep  me,  Nettie  don't, 
—  she's  but  a  poor  man's  wife,  and  five 
chillen  she  'as ;  it 's  not  like  as  if  she  were 
me  daughter,  ma'am." 


ACROSS  THE  FERRY  225 

"  You  have  some  small  sum  of  money  of 
your  own  every  year,  have  you  not?"  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  asked. 

"  Ten  pound  a  year,  ma'am ;  the  same  that 
me  'usband  left  me;  two  'undred  pounds 
'e  'ad  saved  and  't  is  in  an  annuity ;  that 's  all 
I  'ave  —  that  and  me  plum  tree." 

"  The  plum  tree  is  not  yours,  either,  Eliz 
abeth  ;  that  belongs  to  the  land,"  said  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  curtly. 

"  'T  was  me  'usband  planted  it,  ma'am, 
years  ago.  We  watched  'en  and  pruned  'en 
and  tended  'en  like  a  child  we  did  —  an'  now 
to  be  told  'er  ain't  mine ! " 

"  You  're  forgetting  yourself,  Elizabeth,  I 
think,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  It  was  simply 
impossible  for  her  to  see  with  the  old  woman's 
eyes ;  all  she  remembered  was  the  legal  fact 
that  any  tree  planted  in  Stoke  Revel  ground 
belonged  to  the  owner  of  the  ground. 

"  But  ma'am,  'tis  a  big  part  of  me  living 
is  the  plum  tree ;  only  yesterday  I  says  to 
the  young  lady  —  Miss  Cynthia's  young  lady 


226  EOBINETTA 

—  I  says,  <  Dear  knows  how  't  would  be  with 
me  without  I  had  the  plum  tree.' ' 

"I  cannot  help  that,  Elizabeth:  the 
plum  tree  is  not  yours,  it  belongs  to  Stoke 
Revel" 

"  Then  ma'am,  you  '11  be  'lowing  me  some 
thing  for  it  surely  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  obstinately, 
"  you  have  no  legal  claim  to  compensation, 
Elizabeth.  I  cannot  undertake  to  allow  you 
anything  for  what  is  not  yours.  If  I  did  it 
in  your  case  you  know  quite  well  I  should 
have  to  do  it  in  many  others." 

There  was  a  long  and  heavy  silence.  Eliza 
beth  Prettyman  was  taking  in  her  sentence 
of  banishment  from  her  old  home ;  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  was  merely  wondering  how  long  it 
would  take  her  to  walk  down  that  nasty  steep 
bit  of  path  to  the  ferry.  At  last  the  old 
woman  looked  up. 

"  When  must  I  be  goin'  then,  ma'am  ? " 
she  asked  meekly. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  considered.  "  The  transfer 


ACROSS   THE   FERRY  227 

of  land  from  one  person  to  another  generally 
takes  some  time  :  you  will  have  several  weeks 
here  still ;  I  shall  send  you  notice  later  which 
day  to  quit." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Elizabeth  sim 
ply,  and  added,  "  The  plum  tree  blossoms  'ul 
be  over  by  that  time." 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it," 
said  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  in  whose  heart  there  was 
room  for  no  sentiment. 

"  'T  would  have  been  'arder  leavin'  it  in 
blossom  time,"  the  old  woman  explained; 
but  her  hearer  could  not  see  the  point.  She 
rose  slowly  from  her  chair  and  looked  around 
the  cottage. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  keep  your 
place  clean  and  respectable,  Elizabeth,"  she 
said.  "I  wish  you  good  afternoon." 

Elizabeth  never  rose  from  her  chair  to  see 
her  visitor  to  the  door  —  (an  omission  which 
Mrs.  de  Tracy  was  not  likely  to  overlook)  — 
she  just  sat  there  gazing  stupidly  around  the 
tiny  kitchen  and  muttering  a  word  or  two 


228  KOBINETTA 

now  and  then.  At  last  she  got  up  and  tot 
tered  to  the  garden. 

"I'll  'ave  to  leave  it  all  —  leave  the  old 
bench  as  me  William  did  put  for  me  with 
his  own  'ands,  and  leave  Duckie,  Duckie 
can't  never  go  to  Exeter  if  I  goes  there,  — 
and  leave  the  plum  tree."  She  limped  across 
the  little  bit  of  sunny  turf,  and  stood  under 
the  white  canopy  of  the  blossoming  tree, 
leaning  against  its  slender  trunk.  "  Pity  't  is 
we  ain't  rooted  in  the  ground  same  as  the 
trees  are,"  she  mused.  "  Then  no  one  could  n't 
turn  us  out ;  only  the  Lord  Almighty  cut 
us  down  when  our  time  came ;  Lord  knows 
I'm  about  ready  for  that  now — grave-ripe 
as  you  may  say."  She  leaned  her  poor  weary 
old  head  against  the  tree  stem  and  wept, 
ready,  ah  !  how  ready,  at  that  moment,  to  lay 
down  the  burden  of  her  long  and  toilsome 
life. 

"Good  afternoon,  Nursie  dear!"  a  clear 
voice  called  out  in  her  ear,  and  Elizabeth 
started  to  find  that  Kobinette  had  tip-toed 


ACROSS   THE   FERRY  229 

across  the  grass  and  was  standing  close  be 
side  her.  She  lifted  her  tear-stained  face  up 
to  Robin  ette's  as  a  child  might  have  done. 

"  I  've  to  quit,  Missie,"  she  sobbed,  "  to 
leave  me  'ome  and  Duckie  and  the  plum 
tree,  an'  I  Ve  no  place  to  go  to,  and  naught 
but  my  ten  pounds  to  live  on  —  and  't  wont 
keep  me  without  I've  the  plum  tree,  not 
when  I  've  rent  to  pay  from  it ;  not  if  I  don't 
eat  nothing  but  tea  an'  bread  never  again  ! " 

In  a  moment  Robinette's  arms  were  about 
her :  her  soft  young  cheeks  pressed  against 
the  withered  old  face. 

"  What 's  this  you  're  saying,  Nurse  ?  " 
she  cried.  "  Leaving  your  cottage  ?  Who 
said  so?" 

"It's  true,  dear,  quite  true;  'as n't  the 
lady  'erself  been  here  to  tell  me  so?" 

"  Was  that  what  Aunt  de  Tracy  was  here 
about?  I  met  her  on  the  road  five  minutes 
ago;  she  said  she  had  been  here  on  busi 
ness  !  But  tell  me,  Nurse,  why  does  she  want 
you  to  leave  ?  Are  you  going  to  get  a  befr 


230  ROBINETTA 

ter  cottage  ?  Does  she  think  this  one  is  n't 
healthy  for  you?  " 

"No,  no,  dear,  'tis  n't  that,  she 've  sold 
the  cottage  over  me  'ead,  that 's  what  't  is, 
or  she 's  going  to  sell  it,  to  a  gentleman 
from  London  —  Lord  knows  what  a  gentle 
man  from  London  wants  wi'  'en  —  and  I  've 
to  quit." 

Robinette  tried  to  be  a  peacemaker. 

"  Then  you  '11  get  a  much  more  comfort 
able  house,  that 's  quite  certain.  You  know, 
though  this  one  is  lovely  on  fine  days  like 
this,  that  the  thatch  is  all  coming  off,  and 
I  'm  sure  it 's  damp  inside  !  Just  wait  a  bit, 
and  see  if  you  don't  get  some  nice  cosy  little 
place,  with  a  sound  roof  and  quite  dry,  that 
will  cure  this  rheumatism  of  yours." 

But  Mrs.  Prettyman  shook  her  head. 

"No,  no,  there  won't  be  no  cosy  place 
given  to  me ;  I  'm  no  more  worth  than  an 
old  shoe  now,  Missie,  and  I  'm  to  be  turned 
out,  the  lady  said  so  'erself ;  said  as  I  must 
go  to  Exeter  to  live  with  me  niece  Nettie, 


ACROSS   THE   FERRY  231 

and  'er  don't  want  us — Nettie  don't  —  and 
whatever  shall  I  do  without  I  'ave  Duckie 
and  the  plum  tree?" 

"Oh,  but"  —  Robinette  began,  quite  in 
credulously,  and  the  old  woman  took  up  her 
lament  again. 

"  And  I  asked  the  lady,  would  n't  I  'ave 
something  allowed  me  for  the  plum  tree  — 
that  'ave  about  clothed  me  for  years  back? 
And  '  No,'  she  says, '  't  ain't  your  plum  tree, 
Elizabeth,  't  is  mine ;  I  can't  'low  nothing  on 
me  own  plum  tree.' ' 

Robinette  still  refused  to  believe  the  story. 

"Nurse,  dear,"  she  said,  "you're  a  tiny 
bit  deaf  now,  you  know,  and  perhaps  you 
misunderstood  about  leaving.  Suppose  you 
keep  your  dear  old  heart  easy  for  to-night, 
and  I  '11  come  down  bright  and  early  to-mor 
row  and  tell  you  what  it  really  is !  If  you 
have  to  leave  the  plum  tree  you  '11  get  a 
fine  price  put  on  it  that  may  last  you  for 
years ;  it 's  such  a  splendid  tree,  anyone  can 
see  it 's  worth  a  good  deal." 


232  KOBINETTA 

"  That  it  be,  Missie,  the  finest  tree  in 
Wittisham,"  the  old  woman  said,  drying  her 
eyes,  a  little  comforted  by  the  assurance  in 
Robinette's  voice  and  manner. 

"There  now,  we  won't  have  any  more 
tears :  I  've  brought  a  new  canister  of  tea  I 
sent  for  to  London.  I  'm  just  dying  to  taste 
if  it's  good;  we  '11  brew  it  together,  Nursie; 
I  shall  carry  out  the  little  table  from  the 
kitchen  and  we  '11  drink  our  tea  under  the 
plum  tree,"  Robinette  cried. 

She  was  carrying  a  great  parcel  under 
her  arm,  and  when  Mrs.  Prettyman  opened 
it,  she  could  scarcely  believe  that  this  lovely 
red  tin  canister,  filled  with  pounds  of  fra 
grant  tea,  could  really  be  hers !  The  sight  of 
such  riches  almost  drove  away  her  former 
fears.  Robinette  whisked  into  the  kitchen 
and  came  out  carrying  the  little  round  table 
which  she  set  down  under  the  white  canopy 
of  the  plum  tree.  Then  together  they  brought 
out  the  rest  of  the  tea  things,  and  what  a 
merry  meal  they  had ! 


ACROSS   THE   FERRY  233 

"It's  just  nonsense  and  a  bit  of  deafness 
on  your  part,  Nurse,  so  we  won't  remember 
anything  about  leaving  the  house,  we  are 
only  going  to  think  of  enjoyment,"  Robin- 
ette  announced.  Then  the  old  woman  was 
comforted,  as  old  people  are  wont  to  be  by 
the  brave  assurances  of  those  younger  and 
stronger  than  themselves,  forgot  the  spectre 
that  seemed  to  have  risen  suddenly  across  her 
path,  and  laughed  and  talked  as  she  sipped 
the  fragrant  London  tea. 


H 


XVIII 

THE    STOKE    REVEL   JEWELS 


.ULLO!  Cousin  Robin,  hurry  up,  you'll 
need  all  your  time  !  "  It  was  Carnaby  of  course 
who  saluted  Robinette  thus,  as  she  came 
towards  the  house  on  her  return  from  Witti- 
sham. 

"  I'm  not  late,  am  I?  "  she  said,  consulting 
her  watch. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  be  making  a  tremendous 
toilette;  one  of  your  killing  ones  to-night," 
Carnaby  said.  "  Do !  I  love  to  see  you  all 
dressed  up  till  old  Smeardon's  eyes  look  as  if 
they  would  drop  out  when  you  come  into  the 


room." 


"I'll  wear  my  black  dress,  and  her  eyes 
may  remain  in  her  head,"  Robinette  laughed. 

"  And  what  about  Mark's  eyes  ?  Would  n't 
you  like  them  to  drop  out  ?  "  the  boy  asked 
mischievously.  "  He 's  come  back  by  the  af- 


THE  STOKE    REVEL  JEWELS     235 

ternoon  train  while  you  were  away  at  Witti- 
sham." 

"  Oh,  has  he  ?  "  Robinette  said,  and  Carnaby 
stared  so  hard  at  her,  that  to  her  intense  an 
noyance  she  blushed  hotly. 

"Horrid  lynx-eyed  boy/5  she  said  to  her 
self  as  she  ran  upstairs,  "  He  's  growing  up 
far  too  quickly.  He  needs  to  be  snubbed.'' 
She  dashed  to  the  wardrobe,  pulled  out  the 
black  garment,  and  gave  it  a  vindictive  shake. 
"Old,  dowdy,  unbecoming,  deaconess-dis 
trict-visitor-bible-woman,  great-grand-auntly 
thing  ! "  she  cried. 

Then  her  eye  lighted  on  a  cherished  laven 
der  satin.  She  stood  for  a  moment  deliberat 
ing,  the  black  dress  over  her  arm,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  lavender  one  that  hung  in  the 
wardrobe. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  cried  suddenly:  "I'll 
wear  the  lavender,  so  here  goes  !  Men  are  all 
colour  blind,  so  he'll  merely  notice  that  I  look 
nice.  I  must  conceal  from  myself  and  every 
body  else  how  depressed  I  am  over  the  inter- 


236  ROBINETTA 

view  with  Nurse,  and  how  I  dread  discussing 
the  cottage  with  Aunt  de  Tracy.  That  must 
be  done  the  first  thing  after  dinner,  or  I  shall 
lose  what  little  courage  I  have." 

Lavendar  thought  he  had  never  seen  her 
look  so  lovely  as  when  he  met  her  in  the 
drawing  room  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later. 
There  was  nothing  extraordinary  about  the 
dress  but  its  exquisite  tint  and  the  sheen 
of  the  soft  satin.  The  suggestion  that  lay  in 
the  colour  was  entirely  lost  upon  him,  how 
ever:  if  asked  to  name  it  he  would  doubtless 
have  said  "  purplish."  How  he  wished  that  he 
might  have  escorted  her  into  the  dining  room, 
but  Mrs.  de  Tracy  was  his  portion  as  usual, 
and  Robinette  was  waiting  for  Carnaby,  who 
seemed  unaccountably  slow. 

"  Your  arm,  Middy,  when  you  are  quite 
ready/'  she  said  to  him  at  last.  Carnaby's 
extraordinary  unreadiness  seemed  to  arise 
from  his  trying  to  smuggle  some  object  up 
his  sleeve.  This  proved,  a  few  moments  later, 
to  be  a  bundle  of  lavender  sticks  tied  with 


THE   STOKE  REVEL  JEWELS     237 

violet  ribbon  that  he  had  discovered  in  his 
bureau  drawer.  He  laid  it  by  Robinette's 
plate  with  a  whispered  "  My  compliments." 

"  What  does  your  cousin  want  that  bunch 
of  lavender  for,  at  the  table  ?  "  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
enquired. 

"She  likes  lavender  anywhere,  ma'am," 
Carnaby  said  with  a  wink  on  the  side  not 
visible  by  his  grandmother.  "  It 's  a  favourite 
of  hers." 

Robinette  could  only  be  thankful  that 
Lavendar  was  occupied  in  a  sotto  voce  dis 
cussion  of  wine  with  Bates,  and  she  was  able 
to  conceal  the  bundle  of  herbs  before  his  eyes 
met  hers,  for  the  fury  she  felt  against  her 
precious  young  kinsman  at  that  moment  she 
could  have  expressed  only  by  blows. 

Dinner  seemed  interminably  long.  Rob 
inette,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  was  pre 
occupied  ;  Lavendar  made  few  remarks,  and 
Carnaby  was  possessed  by  a  spirit  of  perfectly 
fiendish  mischief,  saying  and  doing  every 
thing  that  could  most  exasperate  his  grand- 


238  ROBINETTA 

mother,  put  her  guests  to  the  blush,  and 
shock  Miss  Smeardon. 

But  at  last  Mrs.  de  Tracy  rose  from  the 
table,  and  the  ladies  followed  her  from  the 
room,  leaving  Lavendar  to  cope  alone  with 
Carnaby. 

u  My  fair  American  cousin  is  more  than 
usually  lovely  to-night,  eh,  Mr.  Lavendar  ?  " 
the  boy  said,  with  his  laughable  assumption 
of  a  man  of  the  world. 

"  There,  my  young  friend ;  that  will  do  ! 
you're  talking  altogether  too  much,"  said 
Lavendar,  as  he  poured  himself  out  a  glass 
of  wine  and  sat  down  by  the  open  window  to 
drink  it.  Carnaby,  perhaps  not  unreasonably 
offended,  lounged  out  of  the  room,  and  left 
the  older  man  to  his  own  meditations. 

Robinette  in  the  meantime  went  into  the 
drawing  room  with  her  aunt,  and  they  sat 
down  together  in  the  dim  light  while  Miss 
Smeardon  went  upstairs  to  write  a  letter. 

"  Aunt  de  Tracy/'  Robinette  began,  "  I 
was  calling  on  Mrs.  Prettyman  just  after  you 


THE   STOKE   REVEL  JEWELS     239 

had  been  with  her  this  afternoon,  and  do 
you  know  the  dear  old  soul  had  taken  the 
strangest  idea  into  her  head !  She  says  you 
are  going  to  ask  her  to  leave  the  cottage." 

"  The  land  on  which  her  cottage  stands  is 
about  to  be  sold,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  "  It 
is  necessary  that  she  should  move." 

"  Yes,  she  quite  understood  that ;  but  she 
thinks  she  is  not  going  to  get  another  house ; 
that  was  what  was  distressing  her,  naturally. 
Of  course  she  hates  to  leave  the  old  place, 
but  I  believe  if  she  gets  another  nicer  cottage, 
that  will  quite  console  her,"  said  Eobinette 
quickly. 

"  I  have  no  vacant  cottage  on  the  estate 
just  now,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  quietly. 

"  Then  what  is  she  to  do  ?  Is  n't  it  impos 
sible  that  she  should  move  until  another 
place  is  made  ready  for  her?"  Kobinette 
rose  and  stood  beside  the  table,  leaning  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  on  it  in  an  attitude  of  intense 
earnestness.  She  was  trying  to  conceal  the 
anger  and  dismay  she  felt  at  her  aunt's  reply. 


240  ROBINETTA 

"  Mrs.  Prettyman  has  relatives  at  Exeter," 
said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  without  the  quiver  of  an 
eyelid. 

"Yes;  but  they  are  poor.  They  aren't 
very  near  relations,  and  they  don't  want  her. 
0  Aunt  de  Tracy,  is  it  necessary  to  make 
her  leave  ?  She  depends  upon  the  plum  tree 
so !  She  makes  twenty-five  dollars  a  year 
from  the  jam  !  " 

"  Dollars  have  no  significance  for  me," 
said  Mrs.  de  Tracy  with  an  icy  smile. 

"  Well,  pounds  then :  five  pounds  she 
makes.  How  is  she  ever  going  to  live  with 
out  that,  unless  you  give  her  the  equivalent  ? 
It 's  half  her  livelihood !  I  promised  you 
would  consider  it  ?  Was  I  wrong  ?  " 

Old  bitternesses  rose  in  Mrs.  de  Tracy's 
heart,  the  prejudices  and  the  grudges  of 
a  life-time.  Everything  connected  with 
Kobinette's  mother  had  been  wrong  in  her 
eyes,  and  now  everything  connected  with 
Kobinette  was  wrong  too,  and  becoming 
more  so  with  startling  rapidity. 


THE   STOKE   REVEL  JEWELS     241 

"You  had  no  right  whatsoever  to  make 
any  promises  on  my  behalf/'  she  now  said 
harshly.  "  You  have  acted  foolishly  and  offi 
ciously.  This  is  110  business  of  yours." 

"I  '11  gladly  make  it  my  business  if  you  '11 
let  me,  Aunt  de  Tracy  !  "  pleaded  Robinette. 
"  If  you  don't  feel  inclined  to  provide  for  Mrs. 
Prettyman,  may  n't  I  ?  She  is  my  mother's 
old  nurse  and  she  shan't  want  for  anything 
as  long  as  I  have  a  penny  to  call  my  own ! " 
Robinette 's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  was  not  a  whit  moved  by  this  show 
of  emotion,  which  appeared  to  her  unneces 
sary  and  theatrical. 

"  You  are  forgetting  yourself  a  good  deal 
in  your  way  of  speaking  to  me  on  this  sub 
ject,"  she  said  coldly.  "  When  I  behaved  un 
becomingly  in  my  youth,  my  mother  always 
recommended  me  to  go  upstairs,  shut  my 
self  up  alone  in  my  room,  and  collect  my 
thoughts.  The  process  had  invariably  a 
calming  effect.  I  advise  you  to  try  it." 

Robinette  did  not  need  to  be  proffered  the 


242  EOBINETTA 

hint  twice.  She  rushed  out  of  the  room  like  a 
•whirlwind,  not  looking  where  she  went.  In 
the  hall,  she  came  face  to  face  with  Lavendar, 
who  had  just  left  the  dining  room. 

"  Mr.  Lavendar !  "  she  cried.  "  Do  go  into 
the  drawing  room  and  speak  to  my  aunt. 
Preach  to  her!  Argue  with  her!  Convince 
her  that  she  can't  and  mustn't  act  in  this 
•way  ;  can't  go  and  turn  Mrs.  Pretty  man  out, 
and  rob  her  of  the  plum  tree,  and  leave  her 
with  hardly  a  penny  in  the  world  or  a  roof 
over  her  head !  " 

"It's  not  a  very  pretty  or  a  very  pleasant 
business,  Mrs.  Loring,  I  admit,"  said  Laven 
dar  quietly. 

"Is  it  English  law?"  cried  Robinette 
with  indignation.  "  If  it  is,  I  call  it  mean 
and  unjust ! " 

"  Sometimes  the  laws  seem  very  hard," 
said  Lavendar.  "I'd  like  to  discuss  this 
affair  with  you  quietly  another  time." 

As  he  spoke,  Carnaby  appeared  and  wanted 
to  be  told  what  the  matter  was,  but  Robinette 


THE   STOKE   REVEL  JEWELS     243 

discovered  that  it  is  not  very  easy  to  criticise 
a  grandmother  to  her  youthful  grandson, 
more  especially  when  the  lady  in  question  is 
your  hostess. 

"  Aunt  de  Tracy  and  I  have  had  a  little  dif 
ference  of  opinion  about  Mrs.  Prettyman  and 
her  cottage,  and  the  plum  tree,"  she  said  to  the 
boy  quietly,  and  Lavendar  nodded  approval. 

"  Prettyman  's  got  the  sack,  has  n't  she  ?  " 
Carnaby  enquired  with  a  boy's  carelessness. 

Robinette  looked  very  grave.  "  My  dear 
old  nurse  is  to  leave  her  cottage,"  she  said 
with  a  quiver  in  her  voice.  "  She 's  to  lose 
her  plum  tree —  " 

"  But  of  course  she  '11  get  compensation," 
cried  Carnaby. 

"  No,  Middy  ;  she 's  to  get  no  compensa 
tion,"  said  Robinette  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  I  call  that  jolly  hard !  It 's  a  beast 
ly  shame,"  said  Carnaby,  evidently  pricking 
up  his  ears  and  with  a  sudden  frown  that 
changed  his  face.  "  I  say,  Mark — "  But 
Lavendar  did  not  think  the  moment  suitable 


244  ROBINETTA 

for  a  discussion  of  Mrs.  Prettyman's  wrongs. 
Besides,  he  did  not  wish  Robinette  to  be 
banished  from  the  drawing  room  for  a  whole 
interminable  evening.  He  contrived  to  silence 
Carnaby  for  the  time  being. 

"  Let 's  bury  the  hatchet  for  a  little  while," 
he  suggested.  "Have  you  forgotten,  Mrs. 
Loring,  that  I  made  Mrs.  de  Tracy  promise 
to  show  off  the  Stoke  Revel  jewels  for  your 
benefit  this  very  night?" 

"0!  but  now  I'm  in  disgrace,  she  won't! " 
said  Robinette. 

"Yes,  she  will!"  said  Carnaby.  "No 
thing  puts  the  old  lady  in  such  a  heavenly 
temper  as  showing  off  the  jewels.  Don't  you 
miss  it,  Cousin  Robin!  It's  like  the  Tower 
of  London  and  Madam  Tussaud's  rolled  into 
one,  this  show,  I  can  assure  you.  Come  on ! 
Come  back  into  the  drawing  room.  Needn't 
be  afraid  when  Mark 's  there !  " 

Robinette  found  that  a  black  look  or  two 
was  all  that  she  had  to  fear  from  Mrs.  de 
Tracy  at  present,  and  even  these  became  less 


THE   STOKE   REVEL  JEWELS     245 

severe  under  the  alchemy  of  Lavendar's  tact. 
A  reminder  that  an  exhibition  of  the  jewelry 
had  been  promised  was  graciously  received. 
Bates  and  Benson  were  summoned,  and 
armed  with  innumerable  keys,  they  descended 
to  subterranean  regions  where  safes  were 
unlocked  and  jewel-boxes  solemnly  brought 
into  the  drawing  room.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  wore 
an  air  almost  devotional,  as  she  unlocked  the 
final  receptacles  with  keys  never  allowed  to 
leave  her  own  hands. 

"If  the  proceedings  had  begun  with 
prayer  and  ended  with  a  hymn,  it  would  n't 
have  surprised  me  in  the  least !  "  Robinette 
said  to  herself,  looking  silently  on.  Her  si 
lence,  luckily  for  her,  was  taken  for  the 
speechlessness  of  awe,  and  did  a  good  deal 
to  make  up,  in  the  eyes  of  her  august  rela 
tive,  for  her  late  indiscretions.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  her  irreverent  thoughts  were  mostly 
to  the  effect  that  all  but  the  historical  pieces 
of  the  Stoke  Revel  corbeille  would  be  the 
better  of  re-setting  by  Tiffany  or  Cartier, 


246  EOBINETTA 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  opened  an  old  shagreen 
case  and  the  firelight  flickered  on  the  dia 
monds  of  a  small  tiara. 

"  This  is  a  part  of  the  famous  Montmo- 
rency  set/'  she  announced  proudly,  with  the 
tone  of  a  Keeper  of  Regalia.  Then  she  took 
out  a  rope  of  pearls  ending  in  tassels.  "  These 
belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette/'  she  said. 

An  emerald  set  was  next  produced,  and  the 
emeralds,  it  was  explained,  had  once  adorned 
a  crown.  Deep  green  they  were,  encrusted 
in  their  diamond  setting;  costly,  unique; 
but  they  left  Robinette  cold,  though  like 
most  American  women,  she  loved  precious 
stones  as  an  adornment.  One  of  those  em 
eralds,  she  was  thinking,  was  worth  fifty 
times  more  than  old  Lizzie  Prettyman's  cot 
tage  :  the  sale  of  one  of  them  would  have 
averted  that  other  sale  which  was  to  cause 
so  much  distress  to  a  poor  harmless  old 
woman. 

"  When  do  you  wear  your  jewels,  Aunt 
de  Tracy  ?  "  she  asked  gravely. 


THE   STOKE   REVEL   JEWELS     247 

"  I  have  not  worn  them  since  the  Admiral's 
death/'  was  the  virtuous  reply,  "and  I  have 
never  called  or  considered  them  mine,  Rob- 
inetta.  They  are  the  de  Tracy  jewels.  When 
Carnaby  takes  his  place  as  the  head  of  the 
house,  they  will  be  his.  He  will  see  that  his 
wife  wears  them  on  the  proper  occasions." 

"  Carnaby 's  wife !  "  thought  Robinette. 
"  Why !  she  may  n't  be  born  !  He  may  never 
have  a  wife !  And  to  think  of  all  those  pre 
cious  stones  hiding  their  brightness  in  these 
boxes  like  prisoners  in  a  dungeon  for  years 
and  years,  only  to  be  let  out  now  and  then 
by  Bates  and  Benson,  jingling  their  keys  like 
jailers  !  And  this  house  is  a  prison  too  !  "  she 
said  to  herself ;  "  a  prison  for  souls  !  "  and 
the  thought  of  its  hoarded  wealth  made  her 
indignant ;  all  this  hidden  treasure  in  a  house 
where  there  was  never  enough  to  eat,  where 
guests  shivered  in  fireless  bedrooms,  where 
servants  would  not  stay  because  they  were 
starved  !  And  Carnaby,  too,  whose  youth  was 
being  embittered  by  unnecessary  economies  : 


248  EOBINETTA 

Carnaby,  who  had  so  little  pocket-money  that 
he  was  a  laughing-stock  among  his  fellows — 
it  was  for  Carnaby  these  sacrifices  were  being 
made!  Strange  traditions !  Fetiches  of  family 
pride  almost  as  grotesque  to  her  thinking  as 
those  of  any  savages  under  the  sun. 

"  My  poor  dear  Middy!  "she  thought. 
"  What  chance  has  he,  brought  up  in  an  atmo 
sphere  like  this?  "  But  she  happened  to  raise 
her  eyes  at  the  moment,  and  to  see  the  actual 
Carnaby  of  the  moment,  not  the  Carnaby  her 
gloomy  imagination  was  evoking  from  the 
future  with  the  "petty  hoard  of  maxims 
preaching  down  "  his  heart.  He  had  contrived 
to  get  hold  of  the  Marie  Antoinette  pearls 
without  his  grandmother's  knowledge  and 
to  hang  them  around  his  neck  ;  he  had  poised 
the  Montmorency  tiara  on  his  own  sleek 
head  ;  he  had  forced  a  heavy  bracelet  by  way 
of  collar  round  Rupert's  throat,  and  now 
with  that  choking  and  goggling  unfortunate 
held  partner- wise  in  his  arms,  he  was  waltz 
ing  on  tiptoe  about  the  farther  drawing 


THE   STOKE   KEVEL  JEWELS     249 

room  behind  the  unconscious  backs  of  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  and  Miss  Smeardon. 

"  He  's  only  a  careless  boy,"  thought  Rob- 
inette,  "  a  happy-go-lucky,  devil-may-care, 
hare-brained  youngster.  They  can't  have 
poisoned  his  nature  yet,  and  I  'm  sure  he  has 
a  good  heart.  If  he  were  at  the  head  of  af 
fairs  at  Stoke  Revel  instead  of  his  grand 
mother,  I  wonder  what  would  be  done  in 
the  matter  of  my  poor  old  nurse?"  Rob- 
inette  stood  in  the  doorway  for  a  moment 
before  going  up  to  her  room.  Her  whole  at 
titude  spoke  depression  as  Carnaby  stole  up 
behind  her. 

"  See  here,  Cousin  Robin,  I  can't  bear  to 
have  you  go  on  like  this.  Don't  take  Pretty- 
man's  trouble  so  to  heart.  We  '11  do  some 
thing  !  I  '11  do  something  myself !  I  have  a 
happy  thought." 


XIX 

LAWYER  AND    CLIENT 

)BiNETTE  had  a  bad  night  after  the 
jewel  exhibition,  and  a  heavy  head  and  ach 
ing  eyes  prompted  her  to  ask  Little  Cummins 
to  bring  her  breakfast  to  her  bedroom. 

It  was  touching  to  see  that  small  person 
hovering  over  Robinette:  stirring  the  fire, 
sweeping  the  hearth,  looping  back  the  cur 
tains,  tucking  the  slippers  out  of  sight,  and 
moving  about  the  room  like  a  mother  minis 
tering  to  an  ailing  child.  Finally  she  stag 
gered  in  with  the  heavy  breakfast  tray  that 
she  had  carried  through  long  halls  and  up 
the  stairs,  and  put  it  on  the  table  by  the 
bed. 

"  There 's  a  new-laid  egg,  ma'am,  that  cook 
'ad  for  the  mistress,  but  I  thought  you 
needed  it  more;  an'  I  brewed  the  tea  meself, 
to  be  sure,"  she  cooed;  "an'  I've  spread 


LAWYER  AND  CLIENT         251 

the  loaf  same  as  you  like,  an*  cut  the  bread 
thin,  an'  'ere's  one  o'  the  roses  you  allers 
wears  to  breakfast ;  an'  would  n't  your  erming 
coat  be  a  comfort,  ma'am?" 

"Dear  Little  Cummins !  How  did  you  know 
I  needed  comfort  ?  How  did  you  guess  I  was 
homesick  ?  " 

Robinette  leaned  her  head  against  the 
housemaid's  rough  hand,  always  stained 
with  black  spots  that  would  give  way  to  no 
scrubbing.  From  morning  to  night  she  was 
in  the  coal  scuttle  or  the  grate  or  the  saucer 
of  black  lead,  for  she  did  nothing  but  lay 
fires,  light  fires,  feed  fires,  and  tidy  up  after 
fires,  for  eight  or  nine  months  of  the  year. 

"  You  must  n't  touch  me,  ma'am ;  I  ain't 
fit ;  there 's  smut  on  me,  an'  hashes,  this  time 
o'  day,"  said  Little  Cummins. 

"I  don't  care.  I  like  you  better  with  ashes 
than  lots  of  people  without.  You  mustn't 
stay  in  the  coal  scuttle  all  your  life,  Little 
Cummins ;  you  must  be  my  chambermaid 
some  of  these  days  when  we  can  get  a  good 


252  ROBINETTA 

substitute  for  Mrs.  de  Tracy.  Would  you 
like  that,  if  the  mistress  will  let  you  go  ?  " 

Little  Cummins  put  her  apron  up  to  her 
eyes,  and  from  its  depths  came  inarticulate 
bursts  of  gratitude  and  joy.  Then  peeping 
from  it  just  enough  to  see  the  way  to  the 
door,  she  ran  out  like  a  hare  and  secluded 
herself  in  the  empty  linen-room  until  she 
was  sufficiently  herself  to  join  the  other  ser 
vants. 

Robinette  finished  her  breakfast  and 
dressed.  She  had  lacked  courage  to  meet 
the  family  party,  although  she  longed  for 
a  talk  with  Mark  Lavendar.  It  was  entirely 
normal,  feminine,  and  according  to  all  law, 
human  and  divine,  but  it  appealed  also  to 
her  sense  of  humour,  that  she  should  feel 
that  this  new  man-friend  could  straighten 
out  all  the  difficulties  in  the  path.  She 
waited  patiently  at  her  window  until  she 
saw  him  walk  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
under  the  cedars,  and  up  the  twisting  path, 
his  head  bent  and  bare,  his  hands  in  his 


LAWYER   AND  CLIENT          253 

pockets.  Then  she  flung  her  blue  cape  over 
her  shoulders  and  followed  him. 

"  Mr.  Lavendar,"  she  called,  as  she  caught 
up  with  his  slow  step,  "you  said  you  would  ad 
vise  me  a  little.  Let  us  sit  on  this  bench  a 
moment  and  find  out  how  we  can  untangle 
all  the  knots  into  which  Aunt  de  Tracy  tied 
us  yesterday.  I  am  so  afraid,  of  her  that  I 
am  sure  I  spoke  timidly  and  respectfully  to 
her  at  first ;  but  perhaps  I  showed  more  feel 
ing  at  the  end  than  I  should.  I  am  willing 
to  apologize  to  her  for  any  lack  of  courtesy, 
but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  retract  anything 
I  said." 

"  It  is  hard  for  you/'  Lavendar  replied, 
"because  you  have  a  natural  affection  for 
your  mother's  old  nurse ;  and  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  I 
begin  to  believe,  is  more  than  indifferent  to 
her.  She  has  some  active  dislike,  perhaps, 
the  source  of  which  is  unknown  to  us." 

"  But  she  is  so  unjust !  "  cried  Robinette. 
"I  never  heard  of  an  Irish  landlord  in  a 
novel  who  would  practice  such  a  piece  of  evic- 


254  KOBINETTA 

tion.  If  I  must  stand  by  and  see  it  done, 
then  I  shall  assert  my  right  to  provide  for 
Nurse  and  move  her  into  a  new  dwelling. 
After  you  left  the  drawing  room  last  night, 
I  begged  as  tactfully  as  I  could  that  Aunt  de 
Tracy  would  sell  me  some  of  the  jewels,  so 
that  she  need  not  part  with  the  land  at  Witti- 
sham.  She  was  very  angry,  and  would  n't  hear 
of  it.  Then  I  proposed  buying  the  plum-tree 
cottage,  that  it  might  be  kept  in  the  family, 
and  she  was  furious  at  my  audacity.  Perhaps 
the  Admiral's  niece  is  not  in  the  family." 

"  She  cannot  endure  anything  like  patron 
age,  or  even  an  assumption  of  equality,"  said 
Lavendar.  "  You  must  be  careful  there." 

"Should  I  be  likely  to  patronize  ?  "  asked 
Robinette  reproachfully. 

"  No ;  but  your  acquaintance  with  your 
aunt  is  a  very  brief  one,  and  she  is  an  ex 
traordinary  character;  hard  to  understand. 
You  may  easily  stumble  on  a  prejudice  of 
hers  at  every  step." 

"  I  should  n't  like  to  understand  her  any 


LAWYER  AND  CLIENT         255 

better  than  I  do  now/'  and  Robinette  pushed 
back  her  hair  rebelliously. 

"  Will  you  be  my  client  for  about  five 
minutes  ?  "  asked  Lavendar, 

"  Yes,  willingly  enough,  for  I  see  nothing 
before  me  but  to  take  Nurse  Prettyman  and 
depart  in  the  first  steamer  for  America." 

Mrs.  Loring  looked  as  if  she  were  quite 
capable  of  this  rather  radical  proceeding,  and 
very  much,  too,  as  if  any  growing  love  for 
Lavendar  that  she  might  have,  would  easily 
give  way  under  this  new  pressure  of  circum 
stances. 

"This  is  the  situation  in  a  nutshell,"  said 
Lavendar,  filling  his  pipe.  "  Mrs.  de  Tracy  is 
entirely  within  her  legal  rights  when  she 
asks  Mrs.  Prettyman  to  leave  the  cottage; 
legally  right  also  when  she  declines  to  give 
compensation  for  the  plum  tree  that  has  been 
a  source  of  income ;  financially  right  more 
over  in  selling  cottage  and  land  at  a  fancy 
price  to  find  money  for  needed  improvements 
on  the  estate." 


256  EOBINETTA 

"  None  of  this  can  be  denied,  I  allow." 
"  All  these  legal  rights  could  have  been 
softened  if  Mrs.  de  Tracy  had  been  willing 
to  soften  them,  but  unfortunately  she  has 
been  put  on  the  defensive.  She  did  not  like 
it  when  I  opposed  her  in  the  first  place.  She 
did  not  like  it  when  my  father  advised  her  to 
make  some  small  settlement,  as  he  did,  several 
days  ago.  She  resented  Mrs.  Prettyman's  as 
sumption  of  owning  the  plum  tree ;  she  was 
outraged  at  your  valiant  espousing  of  your 


nurse's  cause." 


"I  see;  we  have  simply  made  her  more 
determined  in  her  injustice." 

"  Now  it  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  show 
your  mettle/' La vendar  went  on,  "for  you 
to  endure  your  aunt's  displeasure  rather 
than  give  up  a  cause  you  know  to  be  just ; 
but  look  where  it  lands  us." 

Robinette  raised  her  troubled  eyes  to 
Lavendar's,  giving  a  sigh  to  show  she  realized 
that  her  landing-place  would  be  wherever 
the  lawyer  fixed  it,  not  where  she  wished  it. 


LAWYER  AND  CLIENT         257 

"  Go  on,"  she  sighed  patiently. 

"  Your  legal  adviser  regards  it  as  impos 
sible  that  you  should  come  over  from  America 
and  quarrel  with  your  mother's  family;  — 
your  only  family,  in  point  of  fact.  If  this 
affair  is  fought  to  a  finish  you  will  feel  like 
leaving  your  aunt's  house." 

"  I  should  n't  have  to  wait  for  that  feeling," 
said  Robin  ette  irrepressibly.  "Aunt  de  Tracy 
would  have  it  first !  " 

"  In  such  an  event  I  could  and  would  stand 
by  you,  naturally." 

"  Would  you  ?  "  cried  Robinette  glowing 
instantly  like  a  jewel. 

Lavendar  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 
"  Pray  what  do  you  take  me  for  ?  On  whose 
side  could  I,  should  I  be,  my  dear —  my  dear 
Mrs.  Loring  ?  But  to  keep  to  business.  In 
the  event  stated  above,  neither  my  father  nor 
I  could  very  well  continue  to  have  charge  of 
the  estate.  That  is  a  small  matter,  but  in 
creases  the  difficulties,  owing  to  a  long  friend 
ship  dating  back  to  the  Admiral's  time. 


258  EOBINETTA 

Then  we  have  Carnaby.  Carnaby,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Loring,  belongs  to  you.  Do  you  want 
to  give  him  up  ?  He  adores  you  and  you  will 
have  an  unbounded  influence  on  him,  if  you 
choose  to  exercise  it." 

"  How  can  I  influence  Carnaby — in  Amer 
ica?" 

This  was  a  blow,  but  Lavendar  made  no 
sign.  "  You  may  not  always  be  in  America," 
he  said.  "  Now  why  not  let  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
sell  the  land  and  cottage  and  plum  tree  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  things?  Oh,  how  I 
wish  /  could  buy  the  blessed  thing ! "  he 
exclaimed,  parenthetically. 

"  Oh !  how  I  wish  /  could  buy  the  plum  tree, 
and  keep  it.  always  blossoming,  in  my  morn 
ing-room  ! "  sighed  Robinette. 

"  But  unfortunately,  Waller  R.  A.  will  buy 
the  plum  tree,  confound  him!  Now,  just 
after  Mrs.  de  Tracy  has  definitely  sold  the 
premises  and  all  their  appurtenances,  suppose 
you,  in  your  prettiest  and  most  docile  way 
(docility  not  being  your  strong  point!)  ask 


LAWYER   AND   CLIENT         259 

your  aunt  if  she  has  any  objection  to  your 
taking  care  of  Mrs.  Pretty  man  during  the 
few  years  remaining  to  her.  Meantime  keep 
her  from  irritating  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  and  make 
the  poor  old  dear  happy  with  plans  for  her 
future.  If  you  are  short  on  docility  you  are 
long  on  making  people  happy  ! " 

"  Never  did  I  hear  such  an  argument !  It 
would  make  Macduff  fall  into  the  arms  of 
Macbeth ;  it  would  tranquillize  the  Kilkenny 
cats  themselves  !  I  '11  run  in  and  apologize  ab 
jectly  to  my  thrice  guilty  aunt,  then  I  '11  re 
ward  myself  by  going  over  to  Wittisham." 

"  If  you  '11  take  the  ferry  over,  I  'd  like  to 
come  and  fetch  you  if  I  may.  That  shall  be 
my  reward." 

"Reward  for  what?" 

"  For  giving  you  advice  very  much  against 
my  personal  inclinations.  Courses  of  action 
founded  entirely  on  policy  do  not  appeal  to 
me  very  strongly." 


XX 

THE   NEW    HOME 

XT  was  in  rather  a  chastened  spirit  that 
Robinette  set  off  to  see  Mrs.  Prettyman. 
"  I  've  been  foolish,  I  've  been  imprudent ; 
oh  !  dear  me !  I  've  still  so  much  to  learn !  " 
she  sighed  to  herself.  "  No  good  is  ever  done 
by  losing  one's  temper;  it  only  puts  every 
thing  wrong.  I  shall  have  to  try  and  take 
Mr.  Lavendar's  advice.  I  must  be  very  pru 
dent  with  Nurse  this  morning  —  never  show 
her  that  I  think  Aunt  de  Tracy  is  in  the 
wrong ;  just  persuade  her  ever  so  gently  to 
move  to  another  home,  and  arrange  with  her 
where  it  is  to  be." 

It  is  always  difficult  for  an  impetuous  na 
ture  like  Robinette's  to  hold  back  about  any 
thing.  She  would  have  liked  to  run  straight 
into  Mrs.  Prettyman's  room,  and,  flinging 
her  arms  round  the  old  woman's  neck,  cry 


THE  NEW  HOME  261 

out  to  her  that  everything  was  settled.  And 
instead  she  must  come  to  the  point  gently, 
prudently,  wisely,  "like  other  people  " as  she 
said  to  herself. 

The  cottage  seemed  very  still  that  after 
noon,  and  Robinette  knocked  twice  before 
she  heard  the  piping  old  voice  cry  out  to  her 
to  come  in. 

"  Why,  Nurse  dear,  where  are  you  ?  Were 
you  asleep?"  Kobinette  said  as  she  entered, 
for  Mrs.  Prettyman  was  not  sitting  in  the 
fine  new  chair.  Then  she  found  that  the  voice 
answered  from  the  little  bedroom  off  the 
kitchen,  and  that  the  old  woman  was  in 
bed. 

"  I  ain't  ill,  so  to  speak,  dear,  just  weary 
in  me  bones,"  she  explained,  as  Robinette 
sat  down  beside  her.  "  And  Mrs.  Darke,  me 
neighbour,  she  sez  to  me,  '  You  do  take  the 
day  in  bed,  Mrs.  Prettyman,  me  dear,  an'  I  '11 
do  your  bit  of  work  for  'ee '  —  so  'ere  I  be, 
Missie,  right  enough." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  were  worried  yesterday," 


262  KOBINETTA 

said  Robinette ;  "  worried  about  leaving  the 
house." 

"  I  were,  Missie,  I  were/'  she  confessed. 

"That's  why  I  came  to-day;  you  must 
stop  worrying,  for  I  've  settled  all  about  it. 
I  spoke  to  my  aunt  last  night,  and  it 's  true 
that  you  have  to  leave  this  house  ;  but  now 
I  've  come  to  make  arrangements  with  you 
about  a  new  one." 

The  old  woman  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  gave  a  little  cry  that  went 
straight  to  Robinette's  heart. 

"  Lor'  now.  Miss,  'ow  am  I  ever  to  leave 
this  place  where  I  've  been  all  these  years  ? 
I  thought  yesterday  as  you  said 't  was  a  mis 
take  I  'd  made." 

"  But  alas,  it  wasn't  altogether  a  mistake," 
Robinette  had  to  confess  sadly,  her  eyes  fill 
ing  with  tears  as  she  realized  how  she  had 
only  doubled  her  old  friend's  disappointment. 
Then  she  sat  forward  and  took  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man's  hand  in  hers. 

"  Nursie  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  want  you 


THE   NEW   HOME  263 

to  grieve  about  leaving  the  old  home,  for  it 
is  n't  an  awfully  good  one ;  the  new  one  is 
going  to  be  ever  so  much  better !  " 

"  That 's  so,  I  'm  sure,  dearie,  only  't  is 
new"  faltered  Mrs.  Prettyman.  "  If  you  're 
spared  to  my  age,  Missie,  you  '11  find  as  new 
things  scare  you." 

"  Ah,  but  not  a  new  house,  Nursie ! 
Wait  till  I  describe  it !  Everything  strong  and 
firm  about  it,  not  shaking  in  the  storms  as 
this  one  does ;  nice  bright  windows  to  let  in 
all  the  sunshine ;  so  no  more  '  rheumatics ' 
and  no  more  tears  of  pain  in  your  dear  old 
eyes  ! " 

Robinette's  voice  failed  suddenly,  for  it 
struck  her  all  in  a  moment  that  her  glowing 
description  of  the  new  home  seemed  to  have 
in  it  something  prophetic.  That  bent  little 
figure  beside  her,  these  shaking  limbs  and 
dim  old  eyes,  —  all  this  house  of  life,  once 
so  carefully  builded,  was  crumbling  again 
into  the  dust,  and  its  tenant  indeed  wanted 
a  new  one,  quite,  quite  different !  A  sob 


264  ROBINETTA 

rose  in  Eobinette's  throat,  but  she  swallowed 
it  down  and  went  on  gaily. 

"  I  've  settled  about  another  thing,  too ; 
you  're  to  have  another  plum  tree,  or  life 
would  n't  be  the  same  thing  to  you.  And  you 
know  they  can  transplant  quite  big  trees 
now-a-days  and  make  them  grow  wonderfully. 
Some  one  was  telling  me  all  about  how  it  is 
done  only  a  few  days  ago.  They  dig  them 
up  ever  so  carefully,  and  when  they  put  them 
into  the  new  hole,  every  tiny  root  is  spread 
out  and  laid  in  the  right  direction  in  the 
ground,  and  patted  and  coaxed  in,  and  made 
firm,  and  they  just  catch  hold  on.  the  soil  in 
the  twinkle  of  an  eye.  Is  n't  it  marvellous  ? 
Well,  I  '11  have  a  fine  new  tree  planted  for 
you  so  cleverly  that  perhaps  by  next  year 
you  '11  be  having  a  few  plums,  who  knows? 
And  the  next  year  more  plums !  And  the 
next  year,  jam!" 

"  'T  will  be  beautiful,  sure  enough,"  said 
the  old  woman,  kindling  at  last  under  the 
description  of  all  these  joys.  "And  do  you 


THE  NEW   HOME  265 

think,  Missie,  as  the  new  cottage  will  really 
be  curing  of  me  rheumatics  ?  " 

"  Why  yes,  Nurse.  Whoever  heard  of 
rheumatism  in  a  dry  new  house  ?  " 

"  The  house  be  new,  but  the  rheumatics 
be  old,"  said  Mrs.  Prettyman  sagely. 

"  Well,  we  can't  make  you  entirely  new, 
but  we  '11  do  our  best.  I  'm  going  to  enquire 
about  a  nice  cottage  not  very  far  from  here; 
there 's  plenty  of  time  before  this  one  is  sold. 
It  shall  be  dry  and  warm  and  cosy,  and  you 
will  feel  another  person  in  it  altogether." 

"  These  new  houses  be  terrible  dear,  bain't 
they?"  the  old  woman  said  anxiously. 

"  Not  a  bit ;  besides  that 's  another  matter 
I  want  to  settle  with  you,  Nursie.  I  'm  going 
to  pay  the  rent  always,  and  you  're  going  to 
have  a  nice  little  girl  to  help  you  with  the 
work,  and  there  will  be  something  paid  to 
you  each  month,  so  that  you  won't  have  any 
anxiety." 

"  Oh,  Missie,  Missie,  whatever  be  you 
sayin'  ?  Me  never  to  have  no  anxiety  again  ! " 


266  ROBINETTA 

"  You  never  shall,  if  I  can  help  it ;  old 
people  should  never  have  worries ;  that 's 
what  young  people  are  here  for,  to  look  after 
them  and  keep  them  happy." 

Mrs.  Prettyman  lay  back  on  the  pillow  and 
gazed  at  Robinette  incredulously  ;  it  was  n't 
possible  that  such  a  solution  had  come  to 
all  her  troubles.  For  seventy  odd  years  she 
had  worked  and  struggled  and  sometimes 
very  nearly  starved  and  here  was  some  one 
assuring  her  that  these  struggles  were  over 
forever,  that  she  need  n't  work  hard  any 
more,  or  ever  worry  again.  Could  it  be 
true  ?  And  all  to  come  from  Miss  Cynthia's 
daughter ! 

Robinette  bent  down  and  kissed  the 
wrinkled  old  face  softly. 

"  Good-night,  Nursie  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  'm 
not  going  to  stay  any  longer  with  you  to-day, 
because  you're  tired.  Have  a  good  sleep, 
and  waken  up  strong  and  bright." 

"Good-night,  Missie,  good-night,  dear," 
the  old  woman  said.  Her  face  had  taken  on 


THE   NEW   HOME  267 

an  expression  of  such  peacefulness  as  it  had 
never  worn  before. 

She  turned  over  on  her  pillow  and  closed 
her  eyes,  scarcely  waiting  for  Robinette 
to  leave  the  room. 

"  I  've  been  allowed  to  do  that,  anyway," 
Robinette  said  to  herself,  standing  in  the 
doorway  to  look  back  at  the  quiet  sleeper, 
and  then  looking  forward  to  a  little  boat 
nearing  the  shore.  The  cottage  sheltered  al 
most  the  only  object  that  connected  her  with 
her  past ;  the  boat,  she  felt,  held  all  her  fu 
ture. 

The  river,  when  Lavendar  rowed  himself 
across  it,  was  very  quiet.  "  The  swelling  of 
Jordan,"  as  Robinette  called  the  rising  tide, 
was  over ;  now  the  glassy  water  reflected  every 
leaf  and  twig  from  the  trees  that  hung  above 
its  banks  and  dipped  into  it  here  and  there. 

Mooring  his  boat  at  the  landing,  Mark 
sauntered  up  to  Mrs.  Prettyman's  cottage, 
and  having  tapped  lightly  at  the  door  to  let 


268  ROBINETTA 

Mrs.  Loring  know  of  his  arrival,  as  they  had 
agreed  he  should  do,  he  went  along  the 
flagged  pathway  into  the  garden,  and  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  low  wall  that  divided 
it  from  the  river.  Just  in  front  of  him  was 
the  little  worn  bench  where  he  had  first  seen 
Eobinette  as  she  sat  beside  her  old  nurse 
with  the  tiny  shoe  on  her  lap.  It  was  scarcely 
a  fortnight  ago ;  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
could  hardly  remember  the  kind  of  man  he 
had  been  that  afternoon ;  a  new  self,  full  of 
a  new  purpose,  and  at  that  moment  of  a  new 
hope,  had  taken  the  place  of  the  objectless 
being  he  had  been  before. 

Everything  was  very  still;  there  was  scarcely 
a  sound  from  the  village  or  from  the  shipping 
farther  down  the  river.  Lavendar  fancied  he 
heard  Robinette's  clear  voice  within  the  cot 
tage  ;  then  he  started  suddenly  and  the  blood 
rushed  to  his  heart  as  he  listened  to  her  light 
steps  coming  along  the  paved  footpath. 

"  Here  you  are  !  "  she  whispered.  "  Let  us 
not  speak  too  loud,  for  Nurse  was  just  drop- 


THE  NEW  HOME  269 

ping  asleep  when  I  left  her.  I  've  put  a  table- 
cover  and  a  blanket  over  'Mrs.  Mackenzie'  to 
keep  her  from  quacking.  Mrs.  Pretty  man  has 
not  been  very  well,  poor  dear,  and  is  in  bed. 
We  've  just  talked  about  the  lovely  new  home 
she's  going  to  have,  and  the  transplanted 
plum  tree  ;  small,  but  warranted  to  bear  in  a 
year  or  two  and  give  plums  and  jam  like  this 
one.  I  left  her  so  happy  !  " 

She  stopped  and  looked  up.  "  Oh!  can  any 
new  tree  be  as  beautiful  as  this  one?  Was 
ever  anything  in  the  world  more  exquisite  ? 
It  has  just  come  to  its  hour  of  perfection, 
Mr.  Lavendar ;  it  could  n't  last,  —  anything 
so  lovely  in  a  passing  world." 

She  sat  down  on  the  low  wall,  and  looked 
up  at  the  tree.  It  stood  and  shone  there  in 
its  perfect  hour.  Another  day,  and  the  blos 
soms,  too  fully  blown,  would  begin  to  drift 
upon  the  ground  with  every  little  shaking 
wind;  now  it  was  at  its  zenith,  a  miracle  of 
such  white  beauty  that  it  caused  the  heart 
to  stop  and  consider.  Bees  and  butterflies 


270  KOBINETTA 

hummed  and  flew  around  it ;  it  cast  a  delicate 
shadow  on  the  grass,  and  leaning  across  the 
wall  it  was  imaged  again  in  the  river  like  a 
bride  in  her  looking-glass. 

Robinette  sat  gazing  at  the  tree,  and 
Lavendar  sat  gazing  at  her.  At  that  moment 
he  "  feared  his  fate  too  much  "  to  break  the 
silence  by  any  question  that  might  shatter 
his  hope,  as  the  first  breeze  would  break  the 
picture  that  had  taken  shape  in  the  glassy 
water  beneath  them. 

"  I  feel  in  a  better  temper  now,"  said  Rob 
inette.  "  Who  could  be  angry,  and  look  at  that 
beautiful  thing?  I've  left  dear  old  Nurse 
quite  happy  again,  and  I  have  n't  yet  offended 
Aunt  de  Tracy  irrevocably,  and  all  because 
you  persuaded  me  not  to  be  unreasonable. 
All  the  same  I  could  do  it  again  in  another 
minute  if  I  let  myself  go.  Doesn't  injustice 
ever  make  people  angry  in  England?  " 

Lavendar  laughed.  "It  often  makes  me 
feel  angry,  but  I  've  never  found  that  throw 
ing  the  reins  on  the  horses'  necks  when  they 


THE  NEW   HOME  271 

wanted  to  bolt,  made  one  go  along  the  right 
road  any  faster  in  the  end." 

"I  often  think,"  said  Robinette,  "if  we 
could  see  people  really  angry  and  disagree 
able  before  we  —  "  She  hesitated  and  added, 
"  get  to  know  them  well,  we  should  be  so 
much  more  careful." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark,  bending  down  his  head 
and  speaking  very  deliberately,  "  that 's  why 
I  wish  you  could  have  seen  me  in  all  my 
worst  moments.  1 5d  stand  the  shame  of  it, 
if  you  could  only  know,  but,  alas,  one  can't 
show  off  one's  worst  moments  to  order; 
they  must  be  hit  upon  unexpectedly." 

"  I  don't  believe  thirty  years  of  life  would 
teach  one  about  some  people  —  they  are  so 
crevicey"  said  Robinette  musingly.  She  had 
risen  and  leaned  against  the  plum  tree  for 
a  moment,  looking  up  through  the  white 
branches. 

Lavendar  rose  and  stood  beside  her. 
"Thirty  years — I  shall  be  getting  on  to 
seventy  in  thirty  years." 


272  KOBINETTA 

A  little  gust  of  wind  shook  the  tree; 
some  petals  came  drifting  down  upon  them, 
like  white  moths,  like  flakes  of  summer 
snow,  a  warning  that  the  brief  hour  of 
perfection  would  soon  be  past  .  .  .  and 
under  it  human  creatures  were  talking  about 
thirty  years ! 


T, 


XXI 

CARNABY    CUTS   THE   KNOT 


HAT  afternoon,  Carnaby  was  having 
what  he  called  "  an  absolutely  mouldy  time," 
and  since  his  leave  was  running  out  and  his 
remaining  afternoons  were  few,  he  consid 
ered  himself  an  injured  individual.  Robin- 
ette  and  Lavendar  seemed  for  ever  pre-occu- 
pied  either  with  each  other  or  with  some 
subject  of  discussion,  the  ins  and  outs  of 
which  they  had  not  confided  to  him. 

"  It 's  partly  that  blessed  plum  tree,"  he 
said  to  himself ;  "  but  of  course  they  're 
spooning  too.  Very  likely  they  're  engaged 
by  this  time.  Did  n't  I  tell  her  she  'd  marry 
again  ?  Well,  if  she  must,  it  might  as  well 
be  old  Lavendar  as  anyone  else.  He  's  a 
decent  chap,  or  he  was,  before  he  fell  in 
love." 

Carnaby  sighed.  This  effort  of  generosity 


274  ROB1NETTA 

towards  his  rival  made  him  feel  peculiarly 
disconsolate.  He  had  fished  and  rowed  on 
the  river  all  the  morning ;  he  had  ferreted ; 
he  had  fed  Rupert  with  a  private  prepara 
tion  of  rabbits  which  infallibly  made  him 
sick,  the  desired  result  being  obtained  with 
almost  provoking  celerity.  Thus  even  suc 
cess  had  palled,  and  Carnaby's  sharp  and 
idle  wits  had  begun  to  work  on  the  problem 
which  seemed  to  be  occupying  his  elders. 
Neither  Robinette  nor  Lavendar  could  expa 
tiate  to  the  boy  on  his  grandmother's  pecu 
liarities,  but  Carnaby  had  contrived  to  find 
out  for  himself  how  the  land  lay. 

"Why  is  Waller  R.  A.  so  keen  on  the 
plum  tree?"  he  had  enquired. 

"  He  wants  to  make  a  quartette  of  studies," 
answered  Lavendar.  "The  Plum  Tree  in 
spring,  summer,  autumn,  and  winter." 

"What  a  rotten  idea!"  said  Carnaby 
simply. 

"  Far  from  rotten,  my  young  friend,  I 
can  assure  you  !  "  Lavendar  returned.  "  It 


CARNABY  CUTS   THE  KNOT    275 

will  furnish  coloured  illustrations  for  count 
less  summer  numbers  of  the  Graphic  and  The 
Lady's  Pictorial,  and  fill  Waller  R.  A.'s 
pockets  with  gold,  some  of  which  will  shortly 
filter  in  advance  into  the  Stoke  Revel  bank 
ing  account,  we  hope." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  about  that ! "  said  Car- 
naby;  but  he  said  it  to  himself,  while  aloud 
he  only  asked  with  much  apparent  inno 
cence,  "  Waller  R.  A.  would  n't  look  at 
the  cottage  or  the  land  without  the  plum 
tree,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  Lavendar  had  answered. 
"  The  plum  tree  is  safeguarded  in  the 
agreement  as  I  'm  sure  no  plum  tree  ever 
was  before.  Waller  R.  A.  's  no  fool ! " 

Digesting  this  information  and  much  else 
that  he  had  gleaned,  Carnaby  now  climbed 
to  the  top  of  a  tree  where  he  had  a  favourite 
perch,  and  did  some  serious  and  simple 
thinking. 

"  It 's  a  beastly  shame,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "to  turn  that  old  woman  out  of  her 


276  KOBINETTA 

cottage.  Cousin  Robin  thinks  it 's  a  beastly 
shame,  and  what 's  more,  Mark  does,  and 
he  's  a  man,  and  a  lawyer  into  the  bargain." 
Carnaby  thought  remorsefully  of  a  pot  of 
jam  which  old  Mrs.  Prettyman  had  given 
him  once  to  take  back  to  college.  What 
good  jam  it  had  been,  and  how  large  the 
pot !  He  had  never  given  her  anything — 
he  had  never  a  penny  to  bless  himself  with; 
and  now  his  grandmother  was  taking  away 
from  the  poor  old  creature  all  that  she  had. 
"  It  's  regular  covetousness,"  he  thought, 
"  and  that  infernal  plum  tree 's  at  the  bottom 
of  it  all.  Naboth's  vineyard  is  a  joke  in  com 
parison,  and  What  's-his-name  and  the  one 
ewe  lamb  simply  are  n't  in  it."  He  grew  hot 
with  mortification.  Then  he  reflected,  "If 
the  plum  tree  were  n't  there,  Waller  K.  A. 
wouldn't  want  the  cottage,  and  old  Mrs. 
Prettyman  could  live  in  it  till  the  end  of  the 
chapter."  A  slow  grin  dawned  upon  his«face, 
its  most  mischievous  expression,  the  one 
which  Kupert  with  canine  sagacity  had  learned 


CARNABY  CUTS   THE   KNOT    277 

to  dread.  He  felt  and  pinched  the  muscle 
of  his  arm  fondly.  (Mussle  he  always  spelled 
the  word  himself,  upon  phonetic  principles.) 

"  I  may  be  a  fool  and  a  minor  "  (generally 
spelt  miner  by  him),  he  said,  as  he  climbed 
down  from  his  perch,  "but  at  least  I  can 
cut  down  a  tree  ! " 

He  became  lost  to  view  forthwith  in  the 
workshops  and  tool -sheds  attached  to  the 
home  premises  of  Stoke  Revel,  and  presently 
emerged,  furnished  with  the  object  he  had 
made  diligent  and  particular  search  for; 
this  he  proceeded  to  carry  in  an  incon 
spicuous  way  to  a  distant  cottage  where  he 
knew  there  was  a  grindstone.  He  spent  a 
happy  hour  with  the  object,  the  grindstone, 
and  a  pail  of  water.  Whirr,  whirr,  whirr, 
sang  the  grindstone,  now  softly,  now  loudly 
— "  this  is  an  axe,  an  axe,  an  axe,  and  a 
strong  arm  that  holds  it !  " 

"  You  be  goin'  to  do  a  bit  of  forestry  on 
your  own,  Master  Carnaby,  eh  ?  "  suggested 
the  grinning  owner  of  the  grindstone. 


278  KOBINETTA 

"  I  am ;  a  very  particular  bit,  Jones  !  " 
replied  the  young  master,  lovingly  feeling 
the  edge  of  the  tool,  which  was  now  nearly 
as  fine  as  that  of  a  razor. 

"  You  be  careful,  sir,  as  you  don't  chop 
off  one  of  your  own  toes  with  that  there 
axe,"  said  the  man.  "  It  be  full  heavy  for 
one  o'  your  age.  But  there !  you  zailor- 
men  be  that  handy !  'T  is  your  trade,  so  to 
speak!" 

"  Quite  right,  Jones,  it  is ! "  replied  Car- 
naby.  "Good-afternoon  and  thank  you  for 
the  use  of  the  grindstone."  He  was  already 
planning  where  he  would  hide  the  axe,  for 
he  had  precise  ideas  about  everything  and 
left  nothing  to  chance. 

Carnaby  went  to  bed  that  night  at  his 
usual  hour.  His  profession  had  already  ac 
customed  him  to  awaking  at  odd  intervals, 
and  he  had  more  than  the  ordinary  boy's 
knowledge  of  moon  and  tide,  night  and  dawn. 
When  he  slipped  out  of  bed  after  a  few 
hours  of  sound  sleep,  he  put  on  a  flannel 


CARNABY  CUTS  THE  KNOT     279 

shirt  and  trousers  and  a  broad  belt,  and  then, 
carrying  his  boots  in  his  hand,  crept  out  of 
his  room  and  through  the  sleeping  house. 
He  would  much  rather  have  climbed  out  of 
the  window,  in  a  manner  more  worthy  of  such 
an  adventure,  but  his  return  in  that  fashion 
might  offer  dangers  in  daylight.  So  he  was 
content  with  an  unfrequented  garden  door 
which  he  could  leave  on  the  latch. 

The  moon,  which  had  been  young  when 
she  lighted  the  lovers  in  the  mud-bank  adven 
ture,  was  now  a  more  experienced  orb  and 
shed  a  useful  light.  Carnaby  intended  to 
cross  the  river  in  a  small  tub  which  was  pro 
pelled  by  a  single  oar  worked  at  the  stern, 
the  rower  standing.  This  craft  was  intended 
for  pottering  about  the  shore ;  to  cross  the 
river  in  it  was  the  dangerous  feat  of  a  skilled 
waterman,  but  Carnaby  had  a  knack  of  his 
own  with  every  floating  thing.  As  he  bal 
anced  himself  in  the  rocking  tub,  bare-headed, 
bare-necked,  bare-armed,  paddling  with  the 
grace  and  ease  of  strength  and  training,  he 


280  EOBINETTA 

looked  a  man,  but  a  man  young  with  the 
youth  of  the  gods.  The  moon  shone  in  his 
keen  grey  eyes  and  made  them  sparkle.  A 
cold  sea-wind  blew  up  the  river,  but  he  did 
not  feel  its  chill,  for  blood  hot  with  ad 
venture  raced  in  his  veins. 

Wittisham  was  in  profound  darkness  when 
he  landed,  and  the  moon  having  gone  behind 
a  bank  of  cloud,  he  had  to  grope  his  way  to 
Mrs.  Prettyman's  cottage,  shouldering  the 
axe.  The  isolated  position  of  the  house  alone 
made  the  adventure  possible,  he  reflected; 
he  could  not  have  cut  down  a  tree  in  the 
hearing  of  neighbours,  and  as  to  old  Eliza 
beth  herself,  he  hoped  she  was  deaf.  Most 
old  women  were,  he  reflected,  except  unfor 
tunately  his  grandmother ! 

Soon  he  was  entering  the  little  garden  and 
sniffing  the  scent  of  blossom,  which  was  very 
strong  in  the  night  air.  He  could  see  the 
dim  outline  of  the  plum  tree,  and  just  as  he 
wanted  light,  the  moon  came  out  and  shone 
upon  its  whiteness,  giving  a  sort  of  spiritual 


CAENABY  CUTS  THE  KNOT    281 

beauty  to  the  flowering  thing  that  was  very 
exquisite. 

"  What  price,  Waller  R.  A.  now  ?  "  thought 
Carnaby  impishly.  "  The  plum  tree  in  moon 
light  !  eh  ?  Would  n't  he  give  his  eyes  to  see 
it !  But  he  won't !  Not  if  I  know  it !"  The 
boy  was  as  blind  to  the  tree's  beauty  as  his 
grandmother  had  been,  but  he  had  scien 
tific  ideas  how  to  cut  it  down,  for  he  had 
watched  the  felling  of  many  a  tree. 

First,  standing  on  a  lower  branch,  you 
lopped  off  all  the  side  shoots  as  high  as  you 
could  reach.  This  made  the  trunk  easy  to  deal 
with,  and  its  fall  less  heavy,  and  Carnaby  set 
to  work. 

"She  goes  through  them  all  as  slick  as 
butter ! "  he  said  to  himself  in  high  satisfac 
tion.  The  axe  had  assumed  a  personality  to 
him  and  was  "she,"  not  "it."  "She  makes 
no  more  noise  than  a  pair  of  scissors  cutting 
flowers ;  not  half  so  much ! "  he  said  proudly. 
Branch  after  branch  fell  down  and  lay  about 
the  tree  like  the  discarded  garments  of  a  bath- 


282  KOBINETTA 

ing  nymph.  The  petals  fell  upon  Carnaby's 
face,  upon  his  hair  and  shoulders;  he  was 
a  white  figure  as  he  toiled.  Frightened  birds 
and  bats  flew  about,  but  he  did  not  notice 
them.  His  only  care  was  the  cottage  itself 
and  its  inmate.  If  she  should  awake !  But 
the  little  habitation,  shrouded  in  thatch  and 
deep  in  shadow,  was  dark  and  silent  as  the 
grave. 

"She  must  be  sound  asleep  and  deaf," 
thought  the  boy.  "  Yes,  very  deaf."  He 
paused.  The  first  stage  in  his  task  was  ac 
complished.  Shivering  and  naked,  one  ab 
surd  tuft  of  blossom  and  leaves  at  the  tip  — 
the  murdered  tree  now  stood  in  the  moon 
light,  imploring  the  coup  de  grace  which 
should  end  its  shame. 

"  Jolly  well  done,"  said  the  murderer  com 
placently.  He  stretched  his  arms,  looked  at 
the  palms  of  his  hands  to  see  if  they  had 
blistered,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  second 
part  of  his  business.  Thud  !  thud  !  went  the 
axe  on  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  the  sweat 


CAKNABY  CUTS  THE  KNOT    283 

broke  out  all  over  Carnaby's  skin,  not  with 
exertion  but  with  nervous  terror. 

"If  that  doesn't  wake  the  dead!"  he 
thought  —  but  there  was  no  awaking  in  the 
cottage.  Its  tiny  window  blinked  in  the  moon 
light,  and  Carnaby  thought  he  heard  the 
drowsy  quack  of  a  duck  in  an  out-house.  But 
the  danger  passed.  Thud !  went  the  axe  again. 
The  slim  severed  shaft  of  the  tree  was  poised 
a  moment,  motionless,  erect  before  it  fell. 
Then  it  subsided  gently  among  its  broken 
and  trodden  boughs,  and  Carnaby's  task  was 
done. 


E, 


XXII 

CONSEQUENCES 


IARLY  that  morning  before  the  sun  had 
risen,  when  the  light  was  still  grey  in  the 
coming  dawn,  Kobinette  was  awakened  by  a 
bird  that  called  out  from  a  tree  close  to  her 
open  window,  every  note  like  the  striking 
of  a  golden  bell.  She  jumped  up  and  looked 
out,  but  the  little  singer,  silenced,  had  flown 
away.  Instead,  she  caught  sight  of  a  figure 
stealing  across  the  lawn  towards  the  side  door 
which  opened  from  the  library.  Even  in  the 
dim  light  she  could  distinguish  that  it  was 
Carnaby,  Carnaby  with  something  in  his 
hand.  What  he  carried  she  could  not  quite 
make  out,  but  the  sleeves  of  his  flannel  shirt 
were  rolled  up  above  his  elbows  in  a  fatally 
business-like  way,  and  he  walked  with  an  air 
of  stealth. 

"  What  mischief  can  that  boy  have  been 


CONSEQUENCES  285 

up  to  at  this  time  of  day  ?  "  thought  Robin- 
ette  as  she  lay  down  again,  but  she  was  too 
sleepy  to  wonder  long. 

She  forgot  all  about  it  until  she  saw  Car- 
naby  at  the  breakfast  table  some  hours  later. 
Sometimes  the  gloom  of  that  meal — never 
a  favorite  or  convivial  one  in  the  English 
household,  and  most  certainly  neither  at 
Stoke  Revel  —  would  be  enlivened  by  some 
of  the  boy's  pranks.  He  would  pass  over  to 
the  sideboard,  pepper-pot  slyly  in  hand,  and 
Rupert,  whose  meal  at  this  hour  consisted  of 
grape-nuts  and  cream,  would  unaccountably 
sneeze  and  snuffle  over  his  plate. 

"Bless  it,  Bobs!"  his  tormentor  would 
exclaim  tenderly.  "  Is  it  catching  cold?  Poor 
old  Kitchener !  Hi !  Kitch  !  Kitch  I "  (like  a 
violent  sneeze)  and  the  outraged  Rupert 
would  forget  grape-nuts  and  pepper  alike 
in  a  fit  of  impotent  fury.  But  this  morning 
the  dog  fed  in  peace  and  Carnaby  never 
glanced  at  him  or  his  basin.  Robinette,  look 
ing  at  the  boy  and  remembering  where  she 


286  KOBINETTA 

had  seen  him  last,  noticed  that  he  was  rather 
silent,  that  his  cheeks  were  redder  than  com 
mon,  and  that  under  his  eyes  were  lines  of 
fatigue  not  usually  there. 

"  What  were  you  doing  on  the  lawn  at 
four  o'clock  this  morning  ?  "  she  began,  but 
checked  herself,  suddenly  thinking  tha-t  if 
Carnaby  had  been  up  to  mischief  she  must 
not  allude  to  it  before  his  grandmother. 

No  one  had  heard  her.  The  meal  dragged 
on.  Robinette  and  Lavendar  talked  little. 
Miss  Smeardon  was  preoccupied  with  the 
sufferings  and  the  moods  of  Rupert.  Mrs. 
de  Tracy  alone  seemed  in  better  spirits  than 
usual ;  she  was  talkative  and  even  balmy. 

"The  work  at  the  spinney  begins  to-day," 
she  observed  complacently,  addressing  her 
self  to  Lavendar  and  alluding  to  the  rooting 
up  of  an  old  copse  and  the  planting  of  a 
new  one  —  an  improvement  she  had  long 
planned,  though  hitherto  in  vain.  "The 
young  trees  have  arrived." 

"  But  where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ?  " 


CONSEQUENCES  287 

enquired  Carnaby  suddenly,  in  a  sepulchral 
tone.  (His  voice  was  at  the  disagreeable 
breaking  stage,  an  agony  and  a  shame  to 
himself  and  always  a  surprise  to  others.)  His 
grandmother  stared :  the  others,  too,  looked 
in  astonishment  at  the  boy's  red  face. 

"  I  thought  it  had  all  been  explained  to 
you,  Carnaby,"  said  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  "  but 
you  take  so  little  interest  in  the  estate  that 
I  suppose  what  you  have  been  told  went  in 
at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other,  as  usual !  It 
is  the  sale  of  land  at  Wittisham  which  makes 
these  improvements  possible,  advantages 
drawn  from  a  painful  necessity,"  and  the  iron 
woman  almost  sighed. 

"  There  won't  be  any  sale  of  land  at  Wit 
tisham,  —  at  least,  not  of  Mrs.  Prettyman's 
cottage,"  said  Carnaby  abruptly. 

"It  is  practically  settled.  The  transfers 
only  remain  to  be  signed;  you  know  that, 
Carnaby,"  said  Lavendar  curtly.  He  did  not 
wish  the  vexed  question  to  be  raised  again 
at  a  meal. 


288  ROBINETTA 

"It  was  practically  settled  —  but  it's  all 
off  now/'  said  the  boy,  looking  hard  at  his 
grandmother.  "  Waller  R.  A.  won't  want  the 
place  any  more.  The  bloomin'  plum  tree 's 
gone  —  cut  down.  The  bargain  's  off,  and 
old  Mrs.  Prettyman  can  stay  on  in  her  cot 
tage  as  long  as  she  likes  ! " 

There  was  a  freezing  silence,  broken  only 
by  the  stertorous  breathing  of  Rupert  on  Miss 
Smeardon's  lap, 

"  Repeat,  please,  what  you  have  just  said, 
Carnaby,"  said  his  grandmother  with  danger 
ous  calmness,  "  and  speak  distinctly." 

"  I  said  that  the  cottage  at  Wittisham  won't 
be  sold  because  the  plum  tree's  gone,"  re 
peated  Carnaby  doggedly.  "It's  been  cut 
down." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"I've  seen  it."  Carnaby  raised  his  eyes. 
"  I  cut  it  down  myself,"  he  added, "  this  morn 
ing  before  daylight." 

"  Who  put  such  a  thing  into  your  head  ?  " 
Mrs.  de  Tracy's  words  were  ice :  her  glance 


CONSEQUENCES  289 

of  suspicion  at  Robinette,  like  the  cold  thrust 
of  steel.  "  Who  told  you  to  cut  the  plum 
tree  down  ?  " 

"My  conscience!"  was  Carnaby's  unex 
pected  reply.  He  was  as  red  as  fire,  but  his 
glance  did  not  falter.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  rose. 
Not  a  muscle  of  her  face  had  moved. 

"Whatever  your  action  has  been,  Carnaby," 
she  said  with  dignity  —  "  whether  foolish  and 
disgraceful,  or  criminal  and  dangerous,  it 
cannot  be  discussed  here.  You  will  follow  me 
at  once  to  the  library,  and  presently  I  may 
send  for  Mark.  A  lawyer's  advice  will  prob 
ably  be  necessary,"  she  added  grimly. 

Carnaby  said  not  a  word.  He  opened  the 
door  for  his  grandmother  and  followed  her 
out;  but  as  he  passed  Robinette,  he  looked  at 
her  earnestly,  half  expecting  her  applause; 
for  one  of  the  motives  in  his  boyish  mind 
had  certainly  been  to  please  her  —  to  shine 
in  her  eyes  as  the  doer  of  bold  deeds  and  to 
avenge  her  nurse's  wrongs.  And  all  that  he 
had  managed  was  to  make  her  cry ! 


290  ROBINETTA 

'  For  Robinette  had  put  her  elbows  on  the 
table  and  had  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hands.  As  he  left  the  room,  Carnaby  could 
hear  her  exclamation  :  — 

"  To  cut  down  that  tree  !  That  beautiful, 
beautiful,  fruitful  thing  !  0  !  how  could  any 
one  doit?" 

So  this  was  justice ;  this  was  all  he  got 
for  his  pains !  How  unaccountable  women 
were  ! 

Lavendar  awaited  some  time  his  summons  to 
join  Mrs.  de  Tracy  and  her  grandson  in  what 
seemed  to  him  must  be  a  portentous  interview 
enough,  trying  meanwhile  somewhat  unsuc 
cessfully  to  console  Mrs.  Loring  for  the  de 
struction  of  the  plum  tree,  and  exchanging 
with  her  somewhat  awe-struck  comments  on 
the  scene  they  had  both  just  witnessed.  No 
summons  came,  however ;  but  half  an  hour 
later,  he  came  across  Carnaby  alone,  and 
an  interview  promptly  ensued.  He  wanted  to 
plumb  the  depth  of  the  boy-mind  and  to  learn 
exactly  what  motives  had  prompted  Carnaby 


CONSEQUENCES  291 

to  this  sudden  and  startling  action  in  the 
matter  of  the  plum  tree. 

"  Had  you  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  with 
your  grandmother  ?  "  was  his  first  question. 
Carnaby,  he  thought,  looked  subdued,  and 
not  much  wonder. 

The  boy  hesitated. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  I  expected,"  was  his  answer. 
"The  old  lady  was  wonderfully  decent,  for 
her.  She  gave  me  a  talking  to,  of  course." 

"I  should  hope  so  !  "  interpolated  Laven- 
dar  drily. 

"  She  jawed  away  about  our  poverty,"  con 
tinued  Carnaby.  "  She 's  got  that  on  the  brain, 
as  you  know.  She  said  that  this  loss  of  the 
money  —  Waller  R.  A.'s  money,  she  means, 
of  course  —  is  an  awful  blow.  She  said  it 
was,  but  it  seemed  tome —  "  Carnaby  paused, 
looking  extremely  puzzled. 

"  It  seemed  to  you  —  ?  "  prompted  Laven- 
dar  encouragingly. 

"  That  she  wasn't  so  awfully  cut  up,  after 
all,"  said  Carnaby.  "  She  seemed  putting  it 


292  KOBINETTA 

on,  if  you  know  what  I  mean."  Lavendar 
pricked  up  his  ears.  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  intense 
reluctance  to  sell  the  land  recurred  to  him 
in  a  flash.  To  get  her  consent  had  been  like 
drawing  a  tooth,  like  taking  her  life-blood 
drop  by  drop.  Could  it  be  that  she  was  not 
very  sorry  after  all  that  the  scheme  had 
fallen  through,  secretly  glad,  indeed  ?  It  was 
conceivable  that  this  was  Mrs.  de  Tracy's 
view,  but  her  grandson's  motive  was  still 
obscure. 

"  Why  did  you  do  it,  Carnaby?"  Laven 
dar  asked  with  kindness  and  gravity  both  in 
his  voice.  "  You  have  committed  a  very 
mischievous  action,  you  know,  one  that  would 
have  borne  a  harsher  name  had  the  transfers 
been  signed  and  had  the  plum  tree  changed 
hands." 

"But  then  I  shouldn't  have  done  it  — 
you  —  you  juggins,  Mark!"  cried  the  boy. 
"  I  'veno  earthly  grudge  against  Waller  E.  A. 
If  he  'd  actually  bought  the  tree,  it  would 
have  been  too  late,  and  his  beastly  money  — " 


CONSEQUENCES  293 

"You  need  the  money,  you  know,"  re 
marked  Lavendar.  "  Remember  that,  my 
young  friend !  " 

"  It  would  have  been  dirty  money!  "  said 
Carnaby,  with  a  sudden  flash  that  lit  up  his 
rather  heavy  face  with  a  new  expression. 
"  You  and  Cousin  Robin  have  been  jolly 
polite  when  you  thought  I  was  listening,  but 
/  know  what  you  really  thought,  and  the 
kind  of  things  you  were  saying  to  one  an 
other  about  this  business  !  You  thought  it 
beastly  mean  to  take  the  cottage  away  from 
old  Lizzie  in  the  way  it  was  being  done,  and 
sheer  robbery  to  deprive  her  of  the  plum 
tree  without  paying  her  for  it.  I  quite  agreed 
with  you  there,  and  if  I  felt  like  that,  do  you 
think  I  could  sit  still  and  let  the  money  come 
in  to  Stoke  Revel  —  money  that  had  been 
got  in  such  a  way  ?  What  do  you  take  me 
for  ? "  Lavendar  was  silent,  looking  at  the 
boy  in  surprise.  "  Oh/'  continued  Carnaby, 
"  how  I  wish  I  were  of  age  !  Then  I  could 
show  Cousin  Robin,  perhaps,  what  an  Eng- 


294  EOBINETTA 

lish  landlord  can  be !  I  mean  that  he  can  be 
a  friend  to  his  tenants,  and  kind  and  gener 
ous  as  well  as  just.  As  it  is,  Cousin  Eobin 
will  go  back  to  America  and  tell  her  friends 
what  selfish  brutes  we  are  over  here,  and 
how  jolly  glad  she  was  to  get  away ! " 

"  Mrs.  Loring  will  carry  no  tales,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Lavendar.  "  But  tell  me,  my  dear 
fellow,  did  you  imagine  that  Mrs.  Prettyman 
would  be  a  gainer  by  your  action  ?  " 

"Well,  why  not?"  answered  the  boy. 
"  Did  n't  you  tell  me  yourself  that  Waller 
R.  A.  would  n't  look  at  the  cottage  without 
the  tree  ?  What 's  to  prevent  the  old  woman 
living  on  where  she  is  ?  Bo  you  think  there'll 
be  a  rush  of  new  tenants  for  that  precious 
old  hovel  ?  Go  on  !  You  know  better  than 
that!" 

"  But  the  tree,  Carnaby,  the  plum  tree  ! " 
cried  Lavendar.  "  My  young  Goth,  had  n't 
you  a  moment's  compunction?  That  beauti 
ful,  flowering  thing,  as  your  cousin  called  it ; 
could  you  destroy  it  without  a  pang  ? " 


CONSEQUENCES  295 

"  The  tree  ?  "  echoed  Carnaby  with  un 
measured  scorn.  "What's  a  tree?  It's  just 
a  tree,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more  !  " 

quoted  Mark,  despairingly. 

"  Well ;  and  what  more  did  he  expect  of  a 
primrose,  whoever  the  Johnny  was  ?  "  asked 
the  contemptuous  Carnaby. 

"  At  any  rate,"  commented  Lavendar,  "  it 
isn't  necessary  to  search  as  far  as  Peter  Bell 
for  an  analogy  for  your  character,  my  young 
friend  !  You  are  your  grandmother's  grand 
son  after  all  1 " 

"  In  some  ways  I  suppose  I  can't  help  be 
ing,"  answered  Carnaby  soberly,  "  but  not 
in  all,"  he  added,  and  suddenly  turning  red 
he  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  produced  a  coin 
which  he  held  out  to  Lavendar.  "  It 's  only 
ten  bob,"  he  said  apologetically,  "  and  I  wish 
it  was  a  jolly  sight  more !  But  please  give 
it  to  old  Mrs.  Prettyman  to  make  up  a  bit 


296  ROBINETTA 

for  the  loss  of  her  plums.  Daresay  I  '11  man 
age  some  more  by  and  by.  Anyway,  I'll 
make  it  up  to  her  when  I  come  of  age.  — 
I  'm  nearly  sixteen  already,  you  know.  Be 
sure  you  tell  her  that !  " 

But  Lavendar  refused  to  take  the  money. 

"  Mrs.  Prettyman  is  provided  for,  my  boy," 
he  said.  "She  has  become  your  cousin's 
especial  care.  You  need  have  no  fear  about 
that.  The  poor  old  woman  is  very  happy  and 
will  have  a  cottage  more  suited  for  her  rheu 
matism  and  her  general  feebleness  than  the 
present  one.  But  I  think  your  cousin  will 
understand  your  motives  and  believe  that 
you  meant  well  by  old  Lizzie  in  your  little 
piece  of  midnight  madness." 

"  Though  I  was  a  bit  rough  on  the  plum 
tree !  "  said  Carnaby,  with  a  broad  smile. 

"You  think  it's  a  laughing  matter?" 
Lavendar  asked  indignantly.  "I  wish  you 
had  my  father  to  deal  with,  and  Waller  R.  A. ! 
It 's  all  very  well  for  you." 

But  Carnaby  only  laughed.  The  blood  was 


CONSEQUENCES  297 

still  hot  in  his  veins,  and  the  joy  of  his 
night's  adventure.  Mark  told  him  that  he 
and  Mrs.  Loring  were  crossing  the  river  at 
once  to  see  for  themselves  the  extent  of  his 
mischief  and  what  effect  it  had  had  upon 
old  Mrs.  Prettyman.  Carnaby  observed  with 
diabolical  meaning  that  as  he  had  not  been 
invited  to  join  the  party,  he  would  make 
himself  scarce.  Gooseberries,  he  said,  were 
very  good  fruit,  but  he  was  n't  fond  of  them  ; 
so  he  lounged  off  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  Suddenly  he  turned.  "  See  here,  old 
Mark !  You  '11  speak  a  word  for  me  with 
Cousin  Robin,  won't  you  ?  It 's  hard  on  me 
to  have  her  hate  me  when  I  was  trying  to  do 
my  best  to  please  her." 

"  She  won't  hate  you ;  she  could  n't  hate 
anybody,"  said  Lavendar  absently,  watching 
first  the  door  and  then  the  window. 

"  You  say  that  because  you  're  in  love  with 
her !  I  've  a  couple  of  eyes  in  my  head, 
stupid  as  you  all  think  me.  You  can  deny  it 
all  you  like,  but  you  won't  convince  me ! " 


298  KOBINETTA 

"  I  shan't  deny  it,  Carnaby.  I  am  so  much 
in  love  with  her  at  this  moment  that  the 
room  is  whirling  round  and  round  and  I  can 
see  two  of  you  !  " 

"Poor  old  Mark!  Do  you  think  she'll 
take  you  on?" 

"  Can't  say,  Carnaby  !  " 

"You  're  a  lucky  beggar  if  she  does;  that's 
my  opinion  ! "  said  the  boy. 

"  Put  it  as  strong  as  you  like,  Carnaby," 
Lavendar  answered.  "You  can't  exaggerate 
my  feelings  on  that  subject !  " 

"  If  you  had  n't  fifteen  years'  start  of  me 
I  'd  give  you  a  run  for  your  money ! "  ex 
claimed  Carnaby  with  a  daring  look. 


w, 


XXIII 

DEATH   AND    LIFE 


HILE  these  incidents  were  taking  place 
at  the  Manor  House,  village  life  at  Witti- 
sham  had  been  stirring  for  hours.  Thin  blue 
threads  of  smoke  were  rising  from  the  other 
cottages  into  the  windless  air:  only  from 
Nurse  Prettyman's  there  was  none.  Duckie 
in  the  out-house  quacked  and  gabbled  as  she 
had  quacked  and  gabbled  since  the  light 
began,  yet  no  one  came  to  let  her  out  and 
feed  her.  The  halfpenny  jug  of  milk  had  been 
placed  on  the  doorstep  long  ago,  but  Mrs. 
Prettyman  had  not  yet  opened  the  door  to 
take  it  in. 

Outside  in  the  garden,  where  the  plum  tree 
stood  yesterday,  there  was  now  only  a  stump, 
hacked  and  denuded,  and  round  about  it  a 
ruin  of  broken  branches,  leaves,  and  scattered 
blossoms.  Over  the  wreck  the  bees  were  busy 


300  EOBINETTA 

still,  taking  what  they  could  of  the  honey 
that  remained ;  and  in  the  air  was  the  strong 
odour  of  juicy  green  wood  and  torn  bark. 

The  children  who  brought  the  milk  were 
the  first  to  discover  what  had  happened,  and 
very  soon  the  news  spread  amongst  the  other 
cottagers.  Then  came  two  neighbours  to  the 
scene,  wondering  and  exclaiming.  They  went 
to  the  door,  but  Mrs.  Prettyman  did  not  an 
swer  their  knock  or  their  calling.  Mrs.  Darke 
looked  in  through  the  tiny  window. 

"  She  be  sleepin'  that  peaceful  in  'er  bed 
in  there,"  she  said,  "  it  'ud  be  a  shame  to 
wake  'er.  She  's  deaf  now,  and  belike  she 
never  'eard  the  tree  come  down,  'ooever's 
done  it.  But  I  '11  go  and  see  after  Duckie : 
she  's  makin'  noise  enough  to  rouse  'er,  any 
way." 

Then  Duckie  was  released  and  fed  and  de 
parted  to  gabble  her  wrongs  to  the  other 
white  ducks  that  were  preening  themselves 
amongst  the  deep  green  grass  of  the  adjacent 
orchard. 


DEATH  AND  LIFE  801 

"  You  can  'ear  that  bird  a  mile  away  — 
she's  never  done  talking  !  "  said  Mrs.Darke 
as  the  indignant  gabble  grew  fainter  in  the 
distance.  "But  'ere 's  my  old  man  a-come  to 
look  at  the  plum  tree.  Wonder  what  he  '11 
say  to  it  ?  This  be  a  queer  job,  sure  enough ! " 

Old  Darke,  on  two  sticks,  hobbled  towards 
the  scene  of  desolation  with  grunts  of  mingled 
satisfaction  and  dismay.  'T  was  a  rare  sensa 
tion,  though  a  pity,  to  be  sure  ! 

Mrs.  Darke  stood  by  the  well  at  the  turn 
of  the  road,  keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  cot 
tage  while  she  gossiped  with  the  neighbour 
who  was  filling  her  pitcher.  She  did  not  want 
to  miss  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Prettyman's  face 
when  she  opened  her  door  and  found  out 
what  had  happened. 

"  She  be  sleepin'  too  long ;  I  '11  go  and 
waken  her  in  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Darke. 
"'Tis  but  right  she  should  be  told  what's 
come  to  'er  tree,  poor  thing." 

Then  a  beggar  woman  selling  bootlaces 
came  along  the  shore  of  the  river;  she 


302  ROBINETTA 

mounted  the  cottage  steps  and  the  gossips 
watched  her  trailing  up  the  pathway  in  her 
loose  old  shoes,  and  knocking  at  the  door. 
She  waited  for  a  few  minutes :  there  was  no 
answer,  so  she  turned  away  resignedly  and 
trailed  off  along  the  sun-lit  lane,  in-shore, 
leaving  the  garden  gate  swinging  to  and 
fro. 

"  There 's  summat  the  matter ! "  Mrs.  Darke 
had  just  whispered  with  evident  enjoyment, 
when  some  one  else  was  seen  approaching 
the  cottage  from  the  direction  of  the  pier. 
It  was  the  young  lady  from  the  Manor,  this 
time.  She  wore  a  white  dress  and  a  green 
scarf,  and  her  face  was  tinted  with  colour. 
She  looked  like  a  young  blossoming  tree  her 
self,  all  lacy  white  and  pale  green,  a  strange 
morning  vision  in  a  work-a-day  world !  Robin- 
ette  ran  quickly  up  the  pathway  and  knocked 
at  the  door,  but  there  was  no  answer  to  her 
knock.  She  called  out  in  her  clear  voice :  — 

"  Good  morning,  Nurse  !  Good  morning  ! 
Are  n't  you  ready  to  let  me  in  ?  It 's  quite 


DEATH  AND  LIFE  303 

late  !  "  But  there  was  no  answer  to  her 
call.  She  was  just  trying  to  open  the  door, 
which  seemed  to  be  locked,  when  a  gentleman 
came  up  from  the  boat  and  followed  her  to 
the  cottage.  That,  the  women  who  were  watch 
ing  her  thought  quite  natural,  for  surely  such 
a  young  lady  would  be  followed  by  a  lover 
wherever  she  went !  Indeed,  Mrs.  Darke  said 
so. 

"'Tis  in  that  there  kind,"  she  observed 
philosophically,  "like  the  cuckoo  and  the 
bird  that  follows;  never  sees  one  wi'out  the 
other!" 

"  'T  is  quite  that  way,  Mrs.  Darke,"  agreed 
the  neighbour,  approvingly. 

Robinette  turned  a  white  face  to  Lavendar 
as  he  approached. 

"  Nurse  won't  answer,  and  I  can't  get  in ! " 
she  cried.  "  Something  must  have  happened. 
I — I'm  afraid  to  go  in  alone.  The  door  is 
locked,  too." 

"It's  not  locked,"  said  Lavendar,  and  ex 
erting  a  little  strength,  he  pushed  it  open  and 


304  EOBINETTA 

gave  a  quick  glance  inside.  "  I  '11  go  in  first/' 
he  said  gently.  "Wait  here." 

He  came  again  to  the  threshold  in  a  few 
minutes,  a  peculiar  expression  on  his  face 
which  somehow  seemed  to  tell  Robinette 
what  had  happened. 

"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Robin/'  he  said  very 
gravely  and  gently.  "  You  need  not  be  afraid." 

Robinette  instinctively  held  out  her  hand 
to  him  and  they  entered  the  little  room  to 
gether. 

She  need  not  have  feared  for  the  old  wo 
man's  distress  over  the  ruined  plum  tree,  for 
nothing  would  ever  grieve  Nurse  Pretty- 
man  again.  Just  as  she  had  lain  down  the 
night  before,  she  lay  upon  her  bed  now,  hav 
ing  passed  away  in  her  sleep.  "  And  they  that 
encounter  Death  in  sleep,"  says  the  old  writer, 
"go  forth  to  meet  him  with  desire."  The 
aged  face  was  turned  slightly  upwards  and 
wore  a  look  of  contentment  and  repose  that 
made  life  seem  almost  gaudy ;  a  cheap  thing 
to  compare  with  this  attainment.  .  .  . 


DEATH  AND  LIFE  305 

Robinette  came  out  of  the  cottage  a  little 
later,  leaving  the  neighbours  who  had  gath 
ered  in  the  room  to  their  familiar  and  not 
uncongenial  duties.  She  went  into  the  gar 
den,  where  Mark  Lavendar  awaited  her.  He 
longed  to  try  to  comfort  her;  indeed,  his 
whole  heart  ran  out  to  her  in  a  warmth  and 
passion  that  astounded  him;  but  her  pale 
face,  stained  with  weeping,  warned  him  to 
keep  silence  yet  a  little  while. 

"I  just  came  for  one  branch  of  the  blos 
som/  '  Robinette  said,  "if  it  is  not  all  with 
ered.  Yes,  this  is  quite  fresh  still."  She 
took  a  little  spray  he  had  found  for  her  and 
stood  holding  it  as  she  spoke.  "  Only  yes 
terday  it  was  all  so  lovely !  Oh  !  Mr.  Laven 
dar,  I  need  n't  cry  for  my  old  Nurse,  I  'm 
sure !  How  should  I,  after  seeing  her  face? 
She  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  long  life, 
and  she  was  very  tired,  and  now  all  that 
is  forgotten,  and  she  will  never  have  a  mo 
ment  of  vexation  about  her  tree.  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  cry  for  her;  but  oh, 


306  KOBINETTA 

how  could  Carnaby  destroy  that  beautiful 
thing ! " 

"It  was  a  genuine  though  mistaken  act 
of  conscience !  You  must  not  be  too  hard 
on  Carnaby ! "  pleaded  Lavendar.  "  He  would 
not  touch  the  money  that  was  to  come  from 
the  sale  of  Mrs.  Prettyman's  cottage  under 
the  circumstances,  so  it  seemed  best  to  him 
that  the  sale  should  not  take  place,  and  he 
prevented  it  in  the  directest  and  simplest  way 
that  occurred  to  him.  It's  like  some  of  the 
things  that  men  have  done  to  please  God, 
Mrs.  Robin/'  Mark  added,  smiling,  "and 
thought  they  were  doing  it,  too !  But  Carnaby 
only  wanted  to  please  you !  " 

"  To  please  me !  "  exclaimed  Robinette, 
looking  round  her  at  the  ruin  before  them. 
"  Oh  dear  !  "  she  sighed,  "  how  confusing  the 
world  is,  at  times !  I  am  just  going  to  take 
this  snowy  branch  and  lay  it  on  Nurse's  pil 
low.  She  so  loved  her  tree  !  See  ;  it 's  quite 
fresh  and  beautiful,  and  the  dew  still  upon  it, 
just  like  tears  !  " 


DEATH  AND  LIFE  307 

"  That  seemed  just  right/'  said  Robinette 
softly  as  she  came  out  into  the  sunshine  again, 
a  few  minutes  later.  "  I  laid  the  blossoms  in 
her  kind  old  tired  hands,  the  hands  that  have 
known  so  much  work  and  so  many  pains.  It 
is  over,  and  after  all,  her  new  home  is  better 
than  any  I  could  have  found  for  her !  " 

The  two  walked  slowly  down  the  little 
garden  on  their  way  to  the  gate.  As  they 
passed,  old  Mr.  Darke,  who  had  hobbled 
around  again  to  have  another  look  at  the 
fallen  tree,  addressed  Lavendar  solemnly. 

"Best  tree  in  Wittisham  'e  was,  sir/' 
touching  the  ruin  of  the  branches  as  he 
spoke.  "  'Ooever  could  ha'  thought  o'  sich  a 
piece  of  wickedness  as  to  cut  'im  down? 
Murder,  I  calls  it  !  'T  is  well  as  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man  be  gone  to  'er  rest  wi'out  knowledge  of 
it ;  't  would  'ave  broken  her  old  'eart,  for 
certain  sure !  " 

"  It  nearly  breaks  mine  to  see  it  now,  Mr. 
Darke !  "  said  Robinette  in  a  trembling  voice. 
But  the  old  labourer  bent  down,  mov- 


308  KOBINETTA 

ing  his  creaking  joints  with  difficulty  and 
steadying  himself  upon  his  sticks  till  he 
could  touch  the  stump  of  the  tree  with  his 
rough  but  skilful  hands.  He  pushed  away 
the  long  grass  that  grew  about  the  roots  and 
looked  up  at  Robinette  with  a  wise  old  smile. 

"  'T  is  n't  dead  and  done  for  yet,  Missy, 
never  fear !  "  he  said.  "  Give  'im  time ;  give 
'im  time !  'E  's  cut  above  the  graft  —  see ! 
'E  '11  grow  and  shoot  and  bear  blossom  and 
fruit  same  as  ever  'e  did,  given  time.  See  to 
the  fine  stock  of  'im ;  firm  as  a  rock  in  the 
good  ground  !  And  the  roots,  they  be  sound 
and  fresh.  'E  '11  grow  again,  Missy  ;  never 
you  cry ! " 

Eobinette  looked  so  beautiful  as  she  lifted 
her  luminous  eyes  and  parted  lips  to  old 
Darke,  and  then  turned  to  him  with  a 
gesture  of  hope  and  joy,  that  again  Lavendar 
could  hardly  keep  from  avowing  his  love; 
but  the  remembrance  of  the  old  nurse's  still 
shape  in  the  little  cottage  hushed  the  words 
that  trembled  on  his  lips. 


T, 


XXIV 

GRANDMOTHER   AND    GRANDSON 


HE  disagreeable  duty  of  announcing  Mrs. 
Pretty  man's  death  to  the  lady  of  the  Manor 
now  lay  before  Lavendar  and  his  companion, 
and  the  thought  of  it  weighed  upon  their 
spirits  as  they  crossed  the  river.  Carnaby 
also  must  be  told.  How  would  he  take  it? 
Robinette,  still  under  the  shock  of  the  plum 
tree's  undoing,  expected  perhaps  some  fur 
ther  exhibition  of  youthful  callousness,  but 
Lavendar  knew  better. 

In  their  concern  and  sorrow,  the  young 
couple  had  forgotten  all  minor  matters  such 
as  meals,  and  luncheon  had  long  been  over 
when  they  reached  the  house.  They  could 
see  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  figure  in  the  drawing 
room  as  they  passed  the  windows,  occupying 
exactly  her  usual  seat  in  her  usual  attitude. 


310  KOBINETTA 

It  was  her  hour  for  reading  and  disapproving 
of  the  daily  paper. 

Robinette  and  Lavendar  entered  quietly, 
but  nothing  in  the  gravity  of  their  faces 
struck  Mrs.  de  Tracy  as  strange. 

"  I  have  a  disturbing  piece  of  news  to  give 
you,"  Mark  began,  clearing  his  throat. 
"  Mrs.  Prettyman  died  last  night  in  her  cot 
tage  at  Wittisham." 

The  erect  figure  in  the  widow's  weeds  re 
mained  motionless.  Perhaps  the  old  hand 
that  lowered  the  newspaper  trembled  some 
what,  so  that  its  diamonds  quivered  a  little 
more  than  usual. 

"  So  Mrs.  Prettyman  is  dead  ?  "  she  said. 
Then,  as  the  young  people  stood  looking  at 
her  with  an  air  of  some  expectancy,  she 
added  with  a  sour  glance,  "  Do  you  ex 
pect  me  to  be  very  much  agitated  by  the 
news?" 

"  The  death  was  unexpected,"  began  Lav 
endar  lamely. 

"  She  was  seventy-five  ;  my  age !  "   said 


GKANDMOTHEK  AND   GRANDSON   311 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  with  a  wintry  smile.  "  Is  death 
at  seventy-five  so  unexpected  an  event?" 

Lavendar  said  nothing ;  he  had  nothing  to 
say,  and  Eobinette  for  the  same  reason  was 
silent.  She  was  gazing  at  her  aunt,  almost 
unconsciously,  with  a  wondering  look.  "At 
any  rate,"  continued  Mrs.  de  Tracy,  address 
ing  her  niece,  "  your  protegee  has  been  for 
tunate  in  two  ways,  Robinette.  She  will 
neither  be  turned  out  of  her  cottage  nor 
see  the  destruction  of  her  plum  tree.  By  the 
way  — "  with  a  perfectly  natural  change  of 
tone,  dismissing  at  once  both  Mrs.  Prettyman 
and  Death  —  "  the  plum  tree  is  down,  I  sup 
pose?  You  saw  it?" 

"  Very  much  down ! "  answered  Lavendar. 
"And  certainly  we  saw  it!  Carnaby  does 
nothing  by  halves !  " 

A  slight  change,  a  kind  of  shade  of  soft 
ening,  passed  over  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  stern 
features,  as  the  shadow  of  a  summer  cloud 
may  pass  over  a  rocky  hill.  She  turned  sud 
denly  to  Robinette.  "  Can  you  tell  me  on 


312  KOBINETTA 

your  word  of  honour  that  you  had  nothing 
to  do  with  Carnaby's  action ;  that  you  did 
not  put  it  into  his  head  to  cut  the  plum  tree 
down!" 

"I?"  exclaimed  Robinette,  scarlet  with 
indignation.  "I?  Why  —  do  you  want  to 
know  what  I  think  of  the  action  ?  I  think  it 
was  perfectly  brutal,  and  the  boy  who  did  it 
next  door  to  a  criminal !  There  !  " 

Mrs.  de  Tracy  seemed  convinced  by  the 
energy  of  this  disclaimer.  "I  have  always 
considered  yours  a  very  candid  character/' 
she  observed  with  condescension.  "  I  believe 
you  when  you  say  that  you  did  not  influence 
Carnaby  in  the  matter,  though  I  strongly 
suspected  you  before." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  ejaculated  Robin- 
ette  when  they  had  got  out  of  the  room,  too 
completely  baffled  to  be  more  original.  "  What 
does  she  mean?  Has  any  one  ever  understood 
the  workings  of  Aunt  de  Tracy's  mind  ?  " 

"  Don't  come  to  me  for  any  more  explana 
tions  !  I've  done  my  best  for  my  client!" 


GRANDMOTHER  AND   GRANDSON   313 

cried  Lavendar.  "  I  give  up  my  brief !  I  al 
ways  told  you  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  character  was 
entirely  singular." 

"  Let  us  hope  so  !  "  commented  Robinette 
with  energy.  "  I  should  be  sorry  for  the  world 
if  it  were  plural !  " 

Carnaby  was  not  in  the  house,  and  Laven 
dar  proceeded  to  look  for  him  out  of  doors. 
He  knew  the  boy  was  often  to  be  found  in  a 
high  part  of  the  grounds  behind  the  garden, 
where  he  had  some  special  resort  of  his  own, 
and  he  went  there  first.  The  afternoon  had 
clouded  over,  and  a  slight  shower  was  falling, 
as  Mark  followed  the  wooded  path  leading 
up  hill.  A  rock-garden  bordered  it,  where 
ferns  and  flowers  were  growing,  each  one  of 
which  seemed  to  be  contributing  some  special 
and  delicate  fragrance  to  the  damp,  warm 
air.  The  beech  trees  here  had  low  and  spread 
ing  branches  which  framed  now  and  again 
exquisite  glimpses  of  the  river  far  below  and 
the  wooded  hills  beyond  it. 


314  KOBINETTA 

Lavendar  had  not  gone  far  when  he  found 
Carnaby,  Carnaby  intensely  perturbed,  walk 
ing  up  and  down  by  himself. 

"  You  don't  need  to  tell  me ! "  said  the 
boy,  with  a  quick  and  agitated  gesture  of 
the  hand.  "  Bates  told  me.  Old  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man  's  dead !  "  His  merry,  square-set  face  was 
changed  and  looked  actually  haggard,  and 
his  eyes  searched  Lavendar' s  with  an  expres 
sion  oddly  different  from  their  usual  fear 
less  and  straightforward  one.  They  seemed 
afraid.  "  Was  it  my  grandmother's  —  was  it 
our  fault  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I,  I  feel  like  a  mur 
derer.  Upon  my  soul,  I  do  !  " 

"  Don't  encourage  morbid  ideas,  my  dear 
fellow ! "  said  Lavendar  in  a  matter-of-fact 
tone.  "  There 's  trouble  enough  in  the  world 
without  foolish  exaggeration.  Mrs.  Pretty- 
man  was  '  grave-ripe/  as  she  often  said  to 
your  cousin ;  a  very  feeble  old  woman,  whose 
time  had  come.  The  doctor's  certificate  will 
tell  you  how  rheumatism  had  affected  her 
heart,  and  the  neighbours  would  very  soon 


GRANDMOTHER  AND   GRANDSON   315 

set  your  mind  at  rest  by  describing  the  num 
ber  of  times  poor  old  Lizzie  had  nearly  died 
before." 

"Think  of  it,  though!"  said  Carnaby 
with  wondering  eyes.  "  Think  of  her  lying 
dead  in  the  cottage  while  I  hacked  and  hewed 
at  the  plum  tree  just  outside !  By  Jove  !  it 
makes  a  fellow  feel  queer  !  "  He  shuddered. 
The  picture  he  evoked  was  certainly  a  strange 
one  enough  :  a  strange  picture  in  the  moon 
light  of  a  night  in  spring;  the  doomed 
beauty  of  the  blossoming  tree,  the  blind, 
headstrong  human  energy  working  for  its 
destruction,  and  Death  over  all,  stealthy  and 
strong ! 

"  What  an  ass  I  was ! "  said  Carnaby, 
summing  up  the  situation  in  the  only  lan 
guage  in  which  he  could  express  himself. 
"  Sweating  and  stewing  and  hacking  away — 
thinking  myself  so  awfully  clever !  And  all 
the  time  things  .  .  .  things  were  being  ar 
ranged  in  quite  a  different  manner  !  " 

"  We  are  often  made  to  feel  our  insignifi- 


316  KOBINETTA 

cance  in  ways  like  this,"  said  Lavendar.  "  We 
are  very  small  atoms,  Carnaby,  in  the  path 
of  the  great  forces  that  sweep  us  on." 

"  I  should  rather  think  so  !  "  assented  the 
wondering  boy.  "  And  yet,  can  a  fellow  sit 
tight  all  the  time  and  just  wait  till  things 
happen?" 

"  Ask  me  something  else  ! "  suggested 
Lavendar  ironically. 

There  was  a  short  pause.  "I'm  awfully 
sorry  old  Mrs.  Prettyman  's  dead,"  Carnaby 
said  in  a  very  subdued  tone.  "  I  meant  to 
do  a  lot  for  her,  to  try  and  make  up  for 
my  grandmother's  being  such  a  beast."  He 
stopped  short,  and  to  Lavendar's  astonish 
ment,  his  face  worked,  and  two  tears 
squeezed  themselves  out  of  his  eyes  and  rolled 
over  his  round  cheeks  as  they  might  have 
done  over  a  baby's.  "  It 's  the  j-jam  I  was 
thinking  of,"  he  sniffed.  "  Once  a  pal  of 
mine  and  I  were  playing  the  fool  in  old  Mrs. 
Prettyman's  garden,  pretending  to  steal  the 
plums,  and  giving  her  duck  bits  of  bread 


GRANDMOTHER  AND   GRANDSON   317 

steeped  in  beer  to  make  it  s-squiffy  (a  duck 
can  be  just  as  drunk  as  a  chap).  She  did  n't 
mind  a  bit.  She  was  a  regular  old  brick,  and 
gave  us  a  jolly  good  tea  and  a  pot  of  jam  to 
take  away.  .  .  .  And  now  she 's  dead  and  — 
and  .  .  ."  Carnaby's  feelings  became  too 
much  for  him  again,  and  a  handkerchief 
that  had  seen  better  and  much  cleaner  days 
came  into  play.  Lavendar  flung  an  arm  round 
the  boy's  shoulder. 

"  This  kind  of  regret  comes  to  us  all,  Car- 
naby,"  he  said.  "I  don't  suppose  there's  a 
man  with  a  heart  in  his  breast  who  has  n't 
sometime  had  to  say  to  himself,  I  might 
have  done  better :  I  might  have  been  kinder : 
it 's  too  late  now  !  But  it 's  never  too  late  !  " 
added  Lavendar  under  his  breath  —  "not 
where  Love  is  !  " 

The  shower  was  over,  and  though  the  sun 
had  not  come  out,  a  pleasant  light  lay  upon 
the  river  as  the  friends  walked  down ;  upon 
the  river  beyond  which  old  Lizzie  Prettyman 
was  sleeping  so  peacefully,  the  sleep  of  kings 


318  ROBINETTA 

and  beggars,  and  just  and  unjust,  and  rich 
and  poor  alike.  Carnaby  had  dried  his  eyes 
but  continued  in  a  pensive  mood. 

"  Cousin  Robin 's  still  angry  with  me  about 
the  tree,"  he  said,  uncertainly. 

"  She  won't  be  angry  long !  "  Lavendar 
assured  him.  "  You  and  your  Cousin  Robin 
are  going  to  be  firm  friends,  friends  for 
life." 

Carnaby  seemed  a  good  deal  comforted. 
"  Mind  you  don't  tell  her  I  blubbered !  "  he 
said  in  sudden  alarm.  "Swear!  " 

"  She  would  n't  think  a  bit  the  worse  of 
you  for  that !  "  said  Lavendar. 

"  Swear,  though !  "  repeated  Carnaby  in 
deadly  earnest. 

And  Lavendar  swore,  of  course. 

But  an  influence  very  unlike  Lavendar's 
and  a  spirit  very  different  from  Robin ette's 
enfolded  Carnaby  de  Tracy  in  his  home  and 
fought,  as  it  were,  for  his  soul.  That  night, 
after  the  last  lamp  had  been  put  out  by  the 


GRANDMOTHER  AND   GRANDSON    319 

careful  Bates,  and  after  Benson  had  bade  a 
respectful  good-night  to  her  mistress,  a  light 
still  burned  in  Mrs.  de  Tracy's  room.  Pre 
sently,  carried  in  her  hand,  it  flitted  out  along 
the  silent  passages,  past  rows  of  doors  which 
were  closed  upon  empty  rooms  or  upon  un 
conscious  sleepers,  till  it  came  to  Carnaby's 
door;  to  the  Boys'  Room,  as  that  far-away 
and  most  unluxurious  apartment  had  always 
been  called.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  was  making  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  one  of  her 
gods.  She  opened  the  door,  and  closing  it 
gently  behind  her,  she  stood  beside  Carnaby's 
bed  and  looked  at  him,  intently  and  hag 
gardly. 

Mrs.  de  Tracy's  was  a  singular  character, 
as  Mark  Lavendar  had  said.  The  circum 
stances  of  her  widowhood  with  its  heavy  re 
sponsibilities  had  perhaps  hardly  been  fair 
to  her.  There  had  been  little  room  for  the 
kindlier  and  softer  feelings,  though  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  they  would  not  have  found 
much  congenial  soil  in  her  heart.  The  per- 


320  ROBINETTA 

sonal  selfishness  in  her  had  long  been  merged 
in  the  greater  and  harder  selfishness  of  caste ; 
she  had  become  a  mere  machine  for  the  keep 
ing  up  of  Stoke  Revel. 

But  to-night  she  was  moved  by  the  posi 
tively  human  sentiment  which  had  been 
stirred  in  her  by  Carnaby's  startling  act  of 
cutting  the  plum  tree  down.  Ah !  let  fools 
believe  if  they  could  that  she  was  angry  with 
the  boy!  She  had  never  felt  anger  less  or 
pride  more.  While  others  talked  and  argued, 
shilly-shallied,  made  love,  muddled  and  made 
mistakes,  her  grandson,  the  man  of  the 
race  that  always  ruled,  had  cut  the  knot 
for  himself,  without  hesitation  and  without 
compunction,  without  consulting  anyone  or 
asking  anyone's  leave.  That  was  the  way 
the  de  Tracys  had  always  acted.  And  it 
seemed  to  Mrs.  de  Tracy  a  crowning  coin 
cidence,  a  fitting  kind  of  poetical  justice, 
that  Carnaby's  action  should  actually  have 
prevented  the  sale  of  the  land  ;  that  dreaded, 
detestable  sale  of  the  first  land  that  the 


GRANDMOTHER  AND   GRANDSON    321 

de  Tracys  had  held  upon  the  banks  of  the 
river. 

So,  since  Carnaby  was  to  be  a  man  of  the 
right  kind,  his  grandmother  had  come  to 
look  at  him,  not  in  love,  as  other  women  come 
to  such  bedsides,  but  in  pride  of  heart.  The 
boy,  after  his  "  white  night "  at  Wittisham 
and  the  varied  emotions  of  the  succeeding 
day,  lay  on  his  side,  in  the  deep,  recuperative 
sleep  of  youth  whence  its  energies  are  drawn 
and  in  which  its  vigors  are  renewed.  His 
round  cheek  indented  the  pillow,  his  rum 
pled  hair  stirred  in  the  breeze  that  blew  in 
at  the  window,  his  arm  and  his  open  hand, 
relaxed,  lay  along  the  sheet.  Another  woman 
would  have  straightened  the  bed-clothes 
above  him ;  another  might  have  touched  his 
hair  or  hand ;  another  kissed  his  cheek.  But 
not  even  because  he  was  like  her  departed 
husband,  like  the  man  who  five  and  fifty 
years  before  had  courted  a  certain  cold  and 
proud,  handsome  and  penniless  Miss  Augusta 
Gallup,  would  Mrs.  de  Tracy  do  these 


322  KOBINETTA 

things.  She  had  had  her  sensation,  such  as 
it  was,  her  secret  moment  of  emotion,  and 
was  satisfied.  She  left  the  room  as  she 
had  come,  the  candle  casting  exaggerated 
shadows  of  herself  upon  the  walls  where 
Carnaby's  bats  and  fishing  rods  and  sporting 
prints  hung. 

It  is  sad  to  be  old  as  Mrs.  de  Tracy 
was  old,  but  her  age  was  of  her  own  mak 
ing,  a  shrinkage  of  the  heart,  a  drying  up 
of  the  wells  of  feeling  that  need  not  have 
been. 

"  I  should  be  better  out  of  the  way,"  her 
bitterness  said  within  her,  and  alas !  it  was 
true.  Her  great,  gaunt  room  seemed  very 
lonely,  very  full  of  shadows  when  she  re 
turned  to  it.  Rupert,  who  always  slept  at 
her  bedside,  awaited  her.  Disturbed  at  this 
unwonted  hour,  he  stirred  in  his  basket, 
wheezed  and  gurgled,  turned  round  and 
round  and  could  not  get  comfortable,  whined, 
and  looked  up  in  his  mistress's  face.  She  stood 
watching  him  with  a  sort  of  grim  pity,  and, 


GRANDMOTHER  AND  GRANDSON   323 

strangely  enough,  bestowed  upon  him  the 
caress  she  had  not  found  for  her  grandson. 
"  Poor  Rupert !  You  are  getting  too  old, 
like  your  mistress !  Your  departure,  like  hers, 
will  be  a  sorrow  to  no  one  !  "  Rupert  seemed 
to  wheeze  an  asthmatical  consent,  and  pre 
sently  he  snuggled  down  in  his  basket  and 
went  to  sleep. 


XXV 

THE   BELLS    OF    STOKE    REVEL 

'N  Sunday  morning  Robinette  and  Lav- 
endar  were  both  ready  for  church,  by  some 
strange  coincidence,  half  an  hour  too  soon. 
He  was  standing  at  the  door  as  she  came  down 
into  the  hall.  Mrs.  de  Tracy  and  Miss  Smear- 
don  were  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  even  Carnaby 
was  invisible,  but  the  shrill,  infuriated  yelp 
ing  of  the  Prince  Charles  from  the  drawing 
room  indicated  his  whereabouts  only  too 
plainly. 

"  We  're  much  too  early,"  said  Robinette, 
glancing  at  the  clock. 

"Shall  we  walk  through  the  buttercup 
meadow,  then — you  and  I?"  asked  Lavendar. 
His  voice  was  low,  and  Robinette  answered 
very  softly.  She  wore  a  white  dress  that 
morning  without  a  touch  of  colour. 

"  I  could  n't  wear  black  to-day  for  Nurse," 


THE  BELLS  OF  STOKE  REVEL  325 

she  said,  in  answer  to  his  glance,  "but  I 
could  n't  wear  any  colour,  either. " 

"  You  're  as  white  as  the  plum  tree  was  ! " 
said  Lavendar.  "I  remember  thinking  that 
it  looked  like  a  bride."  Robinette  made  no 
reply.  He  ventured  to  look  up  at  her  as  he 
spoke,  and  she  was  smiling  although  her  lip 
quivered  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
Lavendar's  heart  beat  uncomfortably  fast  as 
they  walked  through  the  meadow  towards 
the  stile  which  led  into  the  churchyard. 

"It's  too  soon  to  go  in  yet,"  he  said. 
"  The  bells  have  n't  begun." 

"  Let 's  stop  here.  It 's  cool  in  the  shadow," 
said  Robinette.  She  leaned  on  the  wall  and 
looked  out  at  the  shining  reaches  of  the  river. 
"  The  swelling  of  Jordan  is  over  now,"  she 
said  with  a  little  smile  and  a  sigh.  "  The  tide 
has  come  up,  and  how  quiet  everything  is  !  " 

The  water  mirrored  the  hills  and  the  ships 
and  the  gracious  sky  above  them.  There  was 
scarcely  a  sound  in  the  air.  At  the  point 
where  they  stood,  the  Manor  House  was 


326  KOBINETTA 

hidden  from  view,  and  only  the  squat  old 
tower  of  the  church  was  visible,  and  the  yew 
tree  rising  above  the  wall  against  the  golden 
field.  A  bush  of  briar  covered  with  white  roses 
hung  above  them,  just  behind  B-obinette,  and 
Lavendar  looking  at  her  in  this  English  set 
ting  on  an  English  Sunday  morning,  wondered 
to  himself,  as  he  had  so  often  done  before,  if 
she  could  ever  make  this  country  her  home. 
"  Yet  she  has  English  blood  as  well  as  I," 
he  thought.  "  Why,  the  very  name  on  the 
old  bells  of  the  church  there,  records  the 
memory  of  an  ancestress  of  hers !  We  can 
not  be  so  far  apart."  Looking  at  her  stand 
ing  there,  he  rehearsed  to  himself  all  that  he 
meant  to  say,  oh,  a  great  many  things  both 
true  and  eloquent,  but  at  that  moment  every 
word  forsook  him.  Yet  this  was  probably  the 
best  opportunity  he  would  have  of  telling  her 
what  was  burning  in  his  heart :  telling  her 
how  she  had  beguiled  him  at  first  by  her 
quick  understanding  and  her  frolicsome  wit, 
because  all  that  sort  of  thing  was  so  new  to 


THE  BELLS  OF  STOKE  REVEL  327 

him.  She  had  eome  like  a  mountain  spring 
to  a  thirsty  man.  He  had  been  groping  for 
inspiration  and  for  help  :  now  he  seemed  to 
find  them  all  in  her.  She  was  so  much  more 
than  charming,  though  it  was  her  charm  that 
first  impressed  him;  so  much  more  than 
pretty,  though  her  face  attracted  him  at 
first  ;  so  much  more  than  magnetic,  though 
she  drew  him  to  her  at  their  first  meeting  with 
bonds  as  delicate  as  they  were  strong.  These 
were  tangible,  vital,  legitimate  qualities  — 
but  were  they  all  ?  Could  lips  part  so,  could 
eyes  shine  so,  could  voice  tremble  so,  if  there 
were  not  something  underneath;  a  good 
heart,  fidelity,  warmth  of  nature  ? 

"For  the  first  time,"  he  thought,  "I  long 
to  be  worthy  of  a  woman.  But  I  would  not 
tell  her  how  I  love  her  at  this  moment,  unless 
I  felt  I  need  not  be  wholly  unequal  to  her 
demands.  I  have  never  desired  anything 
strongly  enough  to  struggle  for  it,  up  to  now ; 
but  she  has  set  my  springs  in  motion,  and  I 
can  work  for  her  until  I  die ! " 


328  ROBINETTA 

All  this  he  thought,  but  never  a  word 
he  said.  Then  the  church  clock  struck  and 
the  clashing  bells  began.  They  shook  the  air, 
the  earth,  the  ancient  stones,  the  very  nests 
upon  the  trees,  and  sent  the  rooks  flying 
black  as  ink  against  the  yellow  buttercups 
in  the  meadow. 

"We  must  go,  in  a  few  minutes,"  said 
Robinette.  "  Oh,  will  you  pull  me  some  of 
those  white  roses  up  there?" 

Lavendar  swung  himself  up  and  drawing 
down  a  bunch  he  pulled  off  two  white  buds. 

"Will  you  take  them  ?"  he  asked,  holding 
them  out  to  her.  Then  suddenly  he  said,  very 
low  and  very  humbly,  "  Oh,  take  me  too  ; 
take  me,  Robinette,  though  no  man  was  ever 
so  unworthy ! " 

Robinette  laid  the  roses  on  the  wall  beside 
her. 

"  For  my  part,"  she  said,  turning  to  Laven 
dar  with  a  little  laugh  that  was  half  a  sob ; 
"  for  my  part,  I  like  giving  better  than  tak 
ing  !  "  She  put  both  her  hands  in  his  and 


THE  BELLS  OF  STOKE  EEVEL  329 

looked  into  his  face.  "  Here  is  my  life/'  she 
said  simply.  "I  want  to  belong  to  you,  to  help 
you,  to  live  by  your  side." 

"  I  ought  n't  to  take  you  at  your  word," 
he  said,  his  voice  choked  with  emotion.  "  You 
are  far  too  good  for  me  ! " 

"  Hush,"  Robinetta  answered,  putting  a 
finger  on  his  lip;  "it  is  n't  a  question  of  how 
great  you  are  or  how  wonderful :  it's  a  ques 
tion  of  what  we  can  be  to  each  other.  I  'd 
rather  have  you  than  the  Duke  of  Welling 
ton  or  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  I  believe  you 
would  n't  change  me  for  Helen  of  Troy  ! " 

"I  have  nothing  to  bring  you,  nothing," 
said  Lavendar  again,  "nothing  but  my  love 
and  my  whole  heart." 

"  If  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  were 
offered  to  me  instead,  I  would  still  take  you 
and  what  you  give  me,"  Robinette  an 
swered. 

Lavendar  laid  his  cheek  against  her  bright 
hair  and  sighed  deeply.  In  that  sigh  there 
passed  away  all  former  things,  and  behold, 


330  ROBINETTA 

all  things  became  new.  Two  cuckoos  an 
swered  each  other  from  opposite  banks  of 
the  river  and  two  hearts  sang  songs  of  joy 
that  met  and  mingled  and  floated  upward. 

Again  the  bells  broke  out  overhead,  filling 
the  air  with  music  that  had  rung  from  them 
ever  since  just  such  another  morning  hun 
dreds  of  years  before,  when  they  rang  their 
first  peal  from  the  church  tower,  bearing  the 
legend  newly  cut  upon  them  :  "  Pray  for 
the  Soul  of  Anne  de  Tracy,  1538."  And 
Anne  de  Tracy's  memory  was  forgotten  — 
so  long  forgotten  —  except  for  the  bells  that 
carried  her  name ! 

Yet  in  these  same  meadows  that  she  must 
have  known,  spring  was  come  once  more. 
The  Devonshire  plum  trees  had  budded  and 
blossomed  and  shed  their  petals  year  after 
year,  and  year  after  year,  since  the  bells  first 
swung  in  the  air ;  and  now  Hope  was  born 
once  again,  and  Youth,  and  Love,  which  is 
immortal ! 


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ViAS     9    19Y 

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,„.      8137684 

REG.  CIK.  MURZS'^ 

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NOV  1  i  1900 

ftfc  CIIL   MOV  8     o£ 
fArj  o    ^   "    "1? 

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